


FIFTY TRIPS AROUND THE SUN: A FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST NOVELLA-Gateway Chronicles, Book 1

by Binaryalchemist



Series: The Gateway Chronicles [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist the Movie: Conqueror of Shamballa, M/M, Multi, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 84,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binaryalchemist/pseuds/Binaryalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 21st Century Earth—and a Eurasian chemist named Taisa Roy Mustang is having a hell of a time living with a mysterious ageless lover lover who thinks he's from another world—and whose manga "memoirs" have made Ed a Pop Icon and cartoon hero. On the other hand, Taisa has no idea that he once lived as a Flame Alchemist, born over a century ago who died searching for Edward in the remote mountains of Amestris.</p><p>However...Within the Gateway, someone has opened a rift between the worlds—and that someone is forcing Ed to choose between the reborn Roy he has loved so long on Earth-and a lonely Colonel trapped in the past  in the solitude of Brigg's Mountain...</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIFTY TRIPS AROUND THE SUN: A FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST NOVELLA-Gateway Chronicles, Book 1

Title: Fifty Trips Around The Sun  
A Fullmetal Alchemist Novella  
By The Binary Alchemist  
Words: 87,742  
Rated NC 17—Adult/Mature Content  
Yaoi romance/humor/adventure/angst/comfort/ AU

Chapter 1: 

Three Spoons of Strawberry  
Author: The Binaryalchemist aka Binarytales  
Rated T (language, adult situations)  
RISEMBOOL EAST, TOKYO—PRESENT DAY  
Taisa Roy Mustang had a lock on the door of his study. Never used it. Absolutely pointless. Prevailing Edwardian logic ran like this"What's mine is mine. What's Al's is Al's. What's yours is yours AND mine." In the spare seconds it took for him to fill his coffee mug, turn around and reach for the hazelnut creamer"you mean that Liquid Paper profanity you ruin good Kona with"), the cup would be snatched away and his croissant ripped in half. "Thanks. I was starving," was the only apology he ever got.  
During his first year in America, nobody in the little house in Berkeley dreamed of cracking open a half gallon of strawberry ice cream without digging three spoons out of the leaky dishwasher. They shared everything, the three of them. Pot stickers with every order of Chinese takeout was the house rule: two for you and two for me…and two for that asshole Hughes. Pot stickers neatly divvied three ways—no squabbling.  
Cramming all night for chemistry finals, there'd be a soft rap on the door at some point. A dish of something hot and cheap and filling would appear at his elbow, paired with a refill of coffee. Often Hughes would drape a friendly arm around his shoulder as he refilled Mustang's coffee mug. "Hey, Roy Rogers! Ya want anything, man?" Or Tricia's small, deft fingers would dig into the sore spots on his back; he'd lean into them gratefully, never lifting his eyes from his notes. He'd catch those hands, squeezing them gently in silent thanks. If he passed out at his desk or on the couch, he'd wake in his own bed, reading glasses neatly folded close at hand, his alarm clock already set for the morning class schedule.  
Or he'd wake in their arms, curled up in the middle of that king-sized bed too big for the previous tenant to haul away. He would lie very, very still, listening to the quiet sounds of their breathing. Snoring, actually on the right—Hughes always hogged the right side. That's where the nightstand was and where he parked his glasses every night. Teddy preferred the left, facing the cracked window where she could watch the pigeons nesting on the roof across the alleyway. She'd always dump handfuls of bird seed on the ledge to coax them over. Mayland had no problem with that. "Hell, Cowboy, if we get hungry enough we can wait for the fuckers to land. Smack 'em with a skillet and presto! Squab a la Hughes!" At which point Teddy hoisted said skillet in their roommate's direction and suggested if Mayland thumped her birdies and roasted them, she'd flambé his testicles. "Any idea what wine goes best with jackass, Taisa?"

Alphonse nearly had a stroke the first time he reached his daughter's answering machine at Berkley:  
"Greetings! You're reached the offices of Dyke, Doper and Deviant—OWWW! Shit! I mean, Elric, Hughes and Mustang. For rabid feminist rantings, press 1. Updates on marijuana decriminalization, press 2. If you're queer and looking to get laid, press 3—Goddamit, Roy! I was kidding, fer chrissakes! Can't you people take a joke? Anyway, leave a message. We might get back to you if we make bail. BEEEEEP!"

Winry had stomped into the bedroom, snatched her carry-on bag and was already jamming her faithful crescent wrench in her purse before Teddy had a chance to ring them back. Alphonse intercepted the call before his wife could rip the phone off the wall in her fervent desire to get her hands around the throat of her daughter's roommate.

"Mischief? You're…alright, aren't you? Oh…well, you know how your mother gets-no, it's all right. I'll smooth things over. Couldn't you ask Mays to ch—no, I know it was a joke. You mean Ed's already heard it?" He covered the receiver with his hand. "He's flying down to see her over spring break. Something about being asked to teach a summer seminar as a guest lecturer for the Aerospace Technology department—and he thought the message was hilarious."

"He would," his wife snorted. "He's encouraged her since she popped out. Thick as thieves." Winry still couldn't believe it when her youngest asked for a legal name change for her high school graduation present. Trisha was alright as a first name, she argued, but 'Edwina' was 'tantamount to trauma'. She'd been 'Teddy' all her life anyway, so why not be Trisha Edward Elric and be done with it? Considering Ed's suggested names for Winry's change-of-life baby included "Ooops" and "Accidental Elric', Teddy wasn't so bad, although her knack for getting in and out of scrapes earned her a second nickname: Mischief.  
And Winry was grinding her molars down in half suppressed fury every time she thought about her daughter shacking up at Berkley with that lunatic, Mayland Hughes. "She'll never make it in to the Harvard School of Journalism if that madman is selling weed out of their living room!" she growled.  
"The other boy seems nice," Al offered. "The Japanese student. Very polite when I've chatted with him."  
Winry snatched off her bandanna and rumpled her hair in frustration. "Alphonse—when the hell did you ever hear of anybody from Tokyo named Mustang?"  
"Well…not from Japan, dear." But it's a name I've heard before, he worried inwardly. And if history is repeating itself the way it's been doing since we crossed to this side of the Gateway, Ed's not going to waste any time at all finding out about the Mustang boy. If he's who I'm betting it is…god…I hope Teddy's not interested in him. Otherwise, that poor kid's going to find himself caught in a romantic tug of war between two Elrics—and I wouldn't wish that on anybody…  
One week later, Winry Elric unwrapped her Mother's Day present from her youngest child. She glanced at the photograph, shoved it to one side with a grumble, grabbed her tool belt and stalked out to the garage. "I'm taking apart the Harley. Don't wait up."  
Al lifted his fingers to his lips, tossing a gentle kiss in her direction as she stomped down the stairs. Another kiss was offered in the direction of the framed portrait his bride found so offensive.  
The lanky fellow with the scraggly whiskers looked rakishly handsome in his three-piece suit. The briefcase was a professional touch, although the NORML button on his lapel might have gotten Hughes kicked out of any respectable law firm, save those specializing in representing Keith Richards.  
On the left—oh shit. I was right. It's the Colonel! Alphonse bit his lip anxiously as he studied the young man posing beside his youngest child. Taisa Mustang. Serious in his lab coat. Looked a bit awkward, as if he didn't quite know how to cut up like Hughes. The beaker in his hand was straight off the lab bench, although the contents in the color photo looked suspiciously like a Tequila Sunrise.  
His daughter mugged shamelessly in the middle in an oversized trench coat. The Nikon he'd given her for her birthday was slung around her neck, a fedora with a PRESS badge tilted over one Rockbell-blue eye. She was holding a mock-up of a front page of the Berkley Barb, the paper she worked for, the headline trumpeting"WE WERE ONLY KIDDING, MOM!".  
Winry's head peeked around doorway. She was grinning now "They had the nerve to autograph it, the little shits!"  
A copy of that photograph reminded Taisa to stop off in the kitchen before logging on at the appointed time. A bowl of strawberry ice cream. Three spoons. That's how it had been back in the Seventies. How it would always be, even with the three of them scattered across the globe.  
Hughes was already online, grinning at him via webcam from Los Angeles. "Hey, Roy Rogers!" he crowed. "Happy-almost-your-birthday, man! Where the hell is Teddy?"  
Took her a while to log in. "Crappy assed Wi-Fi," she bitched. The family muckraker and freelance writer was at an undisclosed location. "Michael got some great footage," she gushed. "Palm d'Or time in Cannes again. I can smell it in the wind." Michael was Michael Moore. Teddy had been a research assistant on Roger and Me and was delighted to sign on to the crew for Sicko, his upcoming expose of health care in the U.S. "No room service, but I snagged this from Catering." She held aloft a small paper cup with three plastic spoons—and a tiny candle, not yet lit. "Here's to fifty trips around the sun, darlin'!" She glared at Hughes. "Too cheap to get your own?"  
Mayland Hughes hoisted a pint of Ben and Jerry's best—and three pairs of chopsticks. "To the Dyke, the Doper and the Deviant!"  
"Kampai!" Roy lifted a spoon in salute. "Confusion to our enemies!"  
"L'Chaim!"  
"Prossit!"  
"Dig in!"  
When Tricia Elric, Mayland Alexander Hughes and Taisa Roy Mustang shared the little house in Berkeley known as The Den of Iniquity, there was a standing joke about Hughes and his big mouth. One night Roy had been flipping channels in the early evening. From the couch, Teddy was digging through TV Guide in hopes of finding something on at that hour more entertaining that watching Chief Wahoo McDaniel clothesline somebody on the local wrestling show.  
There was a raucous twonk of bluegrass banjo, and the screen was filled with an animated donkey, peering out between the stalks of a cornfield. The critter looked left, then right, then threw back his head and brayed loudly"HEEEHAAAWWWW! HEE HAW! HEE HAW! HEEEEEHAWWWWW!"  
The chemistry major and the cub reporter spat out the same name in unison"HUGHES!"  
"How the hell did he get his own show?" Teddy wondered aloud.  
"That's not a corn field," Roy observed. "It's a patch of sensimilla."  
Truth was—nobody ever saw Hughes fire one up. For all his squawking about the medical benefits of marijuana and the patriot's right to freedom of expression, for all his crusading on behalf of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws and his "Thank You For Pot Smoking" t-shirt, there wasn't even the slightest whiff of reefer anywhere around him. "All right, Captain Roachclip," Roy confronted him one night, after the campus police had ransacked The Den for the third time in a semester, walking away with nothing more mind-altering than Teddy's bottle of Midol and a half-empty bottle of Blue Nun. "What's the deal? You're not an undercover narc, are you?"  
Hughes just shrugged and grinned. "I'm a PATRIOT," he thumped his broad chest for emphasis. "I believe profoundly in the individual's right to freedom, so long as his actions harm nobody but himself."  
Teddy lifted her head from the book she was studying. "Thelemite," she accused.  
"Huh?"  
"You sound like the Beast." Roy and Mayland exchanged perplexed looks. "Crowley," she clarified. "To do my will shalt be the whole of the Law. Love is the Law, Love under Will." There was something tight and angry in her eyes. "Sounds a hell of a lot like Pride talking." She walked over to the battered cedar chest that doubled as their window seat. The lid had been forcibly pried open. The floor was littered with scrawled notebooks, diagrams and books that reeked of age and cockroaches. Flung across one corner was a curious garment: a wide red coat with a mysterious black symbol on the back. One of the cops tried to carry it off; Hughes had to physically restrain her to keep Teddy from ripping it from his hands while Roy quietly reasoned with the policeman.  
"These belong to her uncle—she's keeping them for him. The chest was locked because those books are rare and out of print."  
The cop was not impressed. "What is this—satanic?" he pointed at the sigil: a serpent broken on a cross, a crown and wings above it.  
"It's….Masonic," Teddy lied. "Amestrian Rite. My father and uncle came out of Europe."  
Soon as she had calmed down she had placed a collect call to London from the bedroom. The conversation was brief but emotional. She hung up, wiped her eyes and rejoined her housemates. "You know my uncle Edward is coming for spring break," she told them. "The books and notes need to be moved….and the coat. It's…been in my family for generations."  
"Teddy," Roy ventured quietly, "what is this thing? Looks familiar, but I can't say where I've seen it before."  
She wadded up the garment, wrapping it tightly in her arms. She nuzzled it almost unconsciously. "It was Edo's. Got it from his sensei—his teacher, I mean. Then it was Daddy's." She closed her eyes briefly, blotting a tear on the crimson folds. "Now it's mine."  
Having the Berkley cops bust in and raid them three times in one semester was, as Roy phrased it, turning their lives into a very unfunny Cheech and Chong sketch. Hughes, loveable as he was, was getting more reckless about shooting off his mouth. "Right," Roy had grumbled over scrambled tofu one morning. "Sir Bongwater of Berkley is getting unbearable."  
"I think he needs an ass kicking," Teddy nodded. "Be easier if we both didn't love him."  
"Right."  
"And if he weren't a terrific lay."  
"For both of us."  
"Think it's gone to his head? Sorry. That's kind of obvious. Ah well. At least Edo's coming next month." She grinned into her orange juice. "He's only an inch taller than me, but oh-my-precious-Goddess he packs more sheer orneriness per square inch than any other man alive. Safer to hang your balls over the bear pit at the zoo than to piss off Uncle Edward. He could give a wolverine a heart attack."  
A chunk of tofu went down sideways and Roy coughed and spluttered. "This—this is somebody I WANT to meet?" he demanded. "If he's going to rip Hughes' heart and feed it to the pigeons in the alley, what the hell is he going to think about you living with a—a…." Mustang cut his eyes away, becoming oddly obsessed in spreading the honey neatly to the crisp edge of his toast.  
"Taisa." Rising, Teddy slid her arms around his shoulders, dropping a soft kiss on the top of his head. "You want to give a gift to this world? Be true to what you are. Love who you love. Anybody judges you—fuck 'em."  
He managed a weak grin. "UN-fuck 'em, you mean?"  
"Shut up and eat your tofu." She took a bite of his toast, a swig of his coffee, wiped her mouth on his napkin and bent back down for a swift kiss. "I'm off." She grabbed her camera bag, jammed the fedora on her head and headed out the door. She was halfway out before she swung back in.  
"He's gay."  
"Huh?"  
"My uncle." She had paused as if considering telling him more, then thought the better of it. "If anybody in my family is likely to understand the hell you're going through about facing up to the way your heart is leading you, it's Edward Elric. The great love of his life was a soldier in the army back home. That was a long-ass time ago, but Edo never forgot him. So…yeah. You ought to talk to him." She winked at him. "He's cute. And I know you're attracted to older guys."  
"TEDDY!"  
"Why else do you keep watching those re-runs of Doctor Who Number Three? Jon Pertwee has a great ass, doesn't he? And he can't be a day under fifty five!"  
….To Be Continued…

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

FIFTY TRIPS AROUND THE SUN, CH 2:  
FIFTY TRIPS AROUND THE SUN, CH 2: DETOURS TO THE GATEWAY  
By The Binaryalchemist Alchemist  
Rated M for non-explicit adult content and profanity  
The net conference had gone on for nearly an hour, with Teddy, Mustang and Hughes chatting and laughing over their shared strawberry ice cream. Suddenly Roy glanced up and grinned. Edward had let himself in. "You didn't send her the email, did you?" Ed accused, scowling over the rims of his glasses.  
Teddy's expression brightened even further. "Edo!"  
"Hey, kiddo! Hughes, I'm hijacking this chat for about twenty minutes. Shove off."  
"Sounds like somebody's wanting to make travel plans," the lawyer chuckled. "Cowboy, I'll go tuck my little angel into bed. See you in a bit."  
"Yeah. I'll go make another pot of expresso." He stared at his lover looking baffled. "Travel plans?"  
Ed avoided his lover's eyes, making Mustang instantly suspicious—and pleased as hell. He hadn't hinted—he'd come right out and informed his lover that he intended to celebrate his upcoming birthday in Paris. Alone—with Edward. Preferable naked with a bottle of champagne, several pounds of Belgian chocolate and a Do Not Disturb notice on the door. Since Ed had been uncharacteristically closed mouthed about the whole trip idea, Teddy had volunteered to broach the subject and even had some first-rate suggestions for accomodations. "Leave it to me," she'd told Taisa. "If he doesn't listen, I'll smack him in the head with a copy of Guide Michelin and I swear to god he'll see Five Stars for certain, damn it!"  
"Allons enfants de la Patrie-Le jour de gloire est arrive!"  
"Teddy…."  
-contre nous, de la tyrannie l'étandard sanglant est levé! L'étandard sanglant est levé, entendez-vous, dans la compagnes. Mugir ces farouches soldats—"  
"Kiddo—"  
"Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras, egorger vos fils, vos compagnes"  
"TRICIA…EDWINA..ELRIC—SHUT…THE…FUCK…UP!"  
God. She'd been Edwina'ed. The old geezer with the recyclable body parts really meant it this time. "Just making a small suggestion on Taisa's behalf," she murmured contritely. "Okay—a big one. But it's important to him! I mean-Edo, it would mean so much to him…and it's not like the family can't afford it. The royalties from FMA have been phenomenal since the movie came out, and there's a new edition of the manga in the works. You two could be breaking bed slats at L'Hotel de Crillion dans le place de la Concorde—"  
"Sounds great, but"  
"—and Le Cote de Saint Jacques in Joigny would be a perfect stop in the wine country around Bourgogne. It's an old medieval city, and Le Cote is right on the river. Taisa was telling me all about it. Marble balconies right off the bedrooms—you could make love under the stars—"  
Her uncle's cheeks flushed hotly. It did sound wonderful. "Okay…but—"  
"I made some enquiries—they can get you into a suite at Le Cap Ferat if we give them thirty day's notice. When was the last time you spent a week on the French Riviera?"  
"Nineteen forty-three. I was being shot at, and besides, the waiters were assholes. If' I'm going back, I want someplace quiet and secluded, where a man can take off his shirt on the beach without somebody laughing at his automail-what am I saying?"  
Mission accomplished, she thought hopefully, and it's no more than you deserve, Taisa. "You're saying," she offered, "that you're taking your lover to Paris for his 50th birthday—and you're going to have the time of your lives together. D'accord?"  
Edward gritted his teeth. "Non, je regrette."  
"MERDE!" A fistful of travel brochures flew across the room. "Damn it, Edo—what the hell is more important than your relationship with Taisa?"  
Edward turned the tiny webcam away from his face and focused it on a large map of the world that decorated one wall in this office. Scattered in about a dozen places throughout Europe, Asia, North America and parts of the Caribbean were small circles of blue highlighter. A large one was inscribed over Germany.  
An automail finger nervously tapped two small circles.  
One was labeled "Orlando".  
The other was marked as "Ranamuerte"  
"Red Coat business, Kiddo. Gateway business. For me and Alphonse-and that means you too. Paris, he shook his head regretfully, "will have to wait."  
"How did he take it, Ni-isan?"  
The elder sibling dropped heavily into his chair, leaned forward towards his brother and jammed his fist into the side of his cheek as his elbow hit the tabletop. "Haven't told him anything yet. He deserves Paris. And I'll take him there—just the two of us. But," he sighed deeply, "it can't be now. Not until you and I check those two Portal stones. That's got to be the first priority, above anything else."  
"Even love?" Alphonse ventured.  
Ed shook his head. Taisa asked so little, he admitted inwardly. And yeah…it would be fantastic. Will be fantastic. Once we get this shit settled. "I'm…I mean, I'll try to make something good of it. I've got Sheska to look for a nice island resort—and I've been going online to do some comparison shopping. I've got some ideas…it'll be all right. You'll see. I'll get Taisa to France in August. Hopefully. Meanwhile, he grinned, "you can take Teddy out for a road test. See if she's been paying attention to what I've taught her."  
"Which has been alchemic theory," his brother reminded him. "If the Gateway opens—"  
"I know, goddamn it! But she's got a better chance to back us up than anybody else in the family. At least she's agreed to archive and record the alchemic lore we brought across from Amestris. Eventually, somebody will crop up in this family of yours who's got the scientific know-how to actually use what we know. If you and I aren't around, at least Teddy can see to it that the next one gets trained right, you know?"  
"Ed, she's your alchemic diciple. That was your choice. I thought you decided to train her because she had promise—or is it because of what we did to her on the other side of the Gate, when she was our—"  
"Shut up, Al. Just…go call Sheska. Make some plans. Go on."  
Alphonse shook his head in resignation, but smiled nonetheless—if he had to play watchdog over a Gateway breach, it would be more enjoyable to travel with his daughter. They never spent enough time together face to face. He could supervise her as she inspected the Portal Stone, and if there was any real trouble he could take care of it himself if it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. I hated taking the training wheels off your bicycle too. It's déjà vu all over again, as Mays would say. And if there'd been just the Munich portal…but no. Dad had to try and make himself some bolt-holes on both sides when he was running from Dante and when he was stuck here on Earth. And the Elrics are going to spend the rest of our lives trying to shut the damn things down. Poor Mischief—talk about being stuck carrying on the family business!  
FLASHBACK—BERKELEY, 1976  
"Verum, sine mendacio, certum et verissimum: Quod est inferius est sicut quod est superius, et quod est superius est sicut quod est inferius, ad perpetranda miracula rei unius. Et sicut res omnes fuerunt ab uno, meditatione unius, sic omnes res natae ab hac una re, adaptatione."  
"Tis true without lying, certain most true.  
That which is below is like that which is above and that which is above is like unto that which is above, to do the miracles of one only thing.  
And as all things have been arose from one by the meditation of one: so all things have their birth from this one thing by adaptation"  
From The Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus, the Thrice Great  
Translated by Sir Issac Newton  
"Greetings! You're reached the offices of Dyke, Doper and Deviant—"  
"Cut the crap!" barked the voice on the other end of the phone. "It was funny the first time I heard it, but enough's enough. Kiddo—I'll be on the 10:40. Gate 7. If I don't see you, I'll wait exactly 30 minutes, then I'm heading to the rental pickup. I have the directions—Southside, between Bancroft and Dwight, correct?—and you really ought to stash that key someplace other than in the flowerpot…and I'm assuming that there is nothing planted in that flowerpot that could get an old man arrested for drug trafficking. Am I right, MISTER HUGHES?"  
"Ouch!" Mays grimaced.  
"On the odd chance that you are there on time, you can drive me somewhere for a decent lunch. Chez Panisse leaps to mind. My treat. And if your roommates aren't under house arrest or under the influence, bring 'em along. At least bring Mustang—we can talk shop, while you read the eight page manifesto your mother has entrusted to me about how she intends to disassemble MISTER HUGHES with a ball peen hammer and a rusty socket wrench for landing her baby girl in the police blotter wearing nothing but a sheet and a pair of contact lenses. As for you, MISTER HUGHES….you and I are going to spend some quality time together while I'm here. Elric out!"  
SLAM!  
"Which is closer—Montreal or Guadalajara?"  
"Mays, c'mon now—damn it, put that suitcase down!"  
Roy planted himself in front of the door, scowling dangerously at his roommate. "Damn it, Hughes! You are not wussing out on us."  
There was real terror in those bright green eyes. "You heard him, cowboy," he yelped. "Son-of-a-bitch is going to eat me! And if there's anything left over, Mama Winry's gonna take her blowtorch to it!" He leveled a ferocious kick at his flight bag. "Goddamn it, why am I the one who gets the blame here?"  
Teddy and Roy exchanged perplexed glances before answering in unison: "Because you're good at it."  
"Oh yeah?" Mayland dug in the top drawer for clean shorts and socks. "Well, fuck you, Mustang!"  
Teddy frowned. "Now, wait one damn minute, Hughes—"  
"And fuck you too, lady! Fuck the pair of you!"  
"You already did," Mustang smirked. "That's why you're in trouble now."  
According to one of the officers present at the time of the raid, the three of them were engaged in some tangled, sweaty gymnastics straight off the menu from a Bangkok brothel. Or, as Hughes would put it, "I'm an omnivore, baby! Some people like meat. Some people prefer seafood. Me?" he grinned salaciously towards his roomies, "I'm into surf and turf."  
Preferably on the same platter, if the report was accurate.  
Frank Kanetsky, the officer following up on the Hughes drug bust, asked his source for a little more clarification.  
"Let me get this straight—you say the door was open?"  
"Yessir. Ajar, to be accurate."  
"Huh. Okay…and the floor was littered with—"  
"Clothing, sir. Men's clothing, and what looked like a pair of ladies' Levi's and a Feminist tee shirt."  
Kanetsky frowned a little. "Define 'Feminist tee shirt.'"  
"Yessir! It had a slogan on it like, 'a woman needs a man the way a fish needs a bicycle'. Something like that. You know."  
"Yeah, I know," Kanetsky growled. "Go on, son. You said there were sounds coming from the open bedroom door?"  
The young lieutenant flushed. "Yessir…sort of…I dunno. Wet sounds. Uhhhh…kinda like….um, slurping. And moaning. And…er…sounded like somebody cursing in Japanese."  
When Kanetsky filed his final report on the Hughes incident, he made carbons for his personal files. Two copies, in case one got smeared. "This one," he told his buddies, "is a keeper."  
"Upon entering the bedroom at 699-B Bancroft street, the arresting officers found the subject, Mayland Alexander Hughes, 19, in a prone position upon the bed, engaging in a sexual act with Tricia E. Elric, 18. At the same time, he was engaged in sexual activity with the other tenant, Taisa 'Roy' Mustang, also 19 and currently residing in California on a student visa while attending the University of California-Berkeley as a chemistry major. It is noted that all three subjects are enrolled in UCB and achieving grade point averages above the norm.  
"Weapons were drawn. Mr. Hughes, Miss Elric and Mr. Mustang did not appear to take notice, since at that moment Mr. Mustang shouted out in what appeared to be Japanese and slumped forward into Miss Elric's arms. Moments later, Miss Elric began what sounded like an invocation to a female deity and she in turn slumped against the chest of Mr. Mustang. Mustang and Elric at that point appear to have lost their balance over the prone body of Hughes, falling to the left side of the bed which exposed the face of Mr. Hughes. When approached for questioning by the investigating officers, Hughes requested that the officers 'wait a bit', as he wanted to 'finish up'. He was not permitted to do so, and complained at length about this. Mr. Mustang and Miss Elric both readily assured Mr. Hughes that as soon as the officers were gone they would 'pick up where they left off.'  
"No narcotics were found on the scene. Mr. Hughes is still under investigation but was not taken into custody."  
The Hughes Report, as it was referred to, eventually got mimeographed. A wadded up copy ended up in San Francisco in the back pocket of a motorcycle cop who would only trust Rockbell's to service his beloved Harley Electra-Glide. Winry Rockbell Elric was, as he put it, a stone genius of a mechanic. "Say, Boss Lady," the cop called to the stunning blonde with her head jammed under the hood of a classic Bel-Aire. "You have a kid named Tricia, right?'  
She nodded. "Better you should see this from me. Already hit the papers around Cal."  
The shop owner unfolded the sheet, scanning rapidly with cobalt eyes that grew larger and wider, line by line. Starting again at the top of the document, she read more carefully. "See that this doesn't go any further. This would cause big trouble for my family."  
"Ah, don't be too hard on the kid," the cop cautioned.  
"Kid?" Winry Rockbell Elric frowned. "Hell with the kid. I just don't want Alphonse indicted for murdering that pothead." She jammed the paper into her coverall and whistled to her mechanic. "Ross!"  
Maria looked up from the Bel-Aire. "What?"  
"Electra-Glide's a freebie."  
The only other person who'd read that damned mimeograph was her brother in law. "Ed, you're the one who's training her in the family business," she brought the elder Elric up sharply. "Make sure that asswipe Hughes doesn't wreck her life."  
Edward didn't blink. "Or Mustang's, either." He snorted to himself. "Hopefully she wasn't attempting some kind of Tantric array. They'd have brought the roof down over their heads if they tried that shit on the other side of the Gateway." Come to think of it, there were definite Tantric overtones to the gymnastics described in the report, he considered. If Mustang was actually homosexual rather than bisexual, than what they were doing had both Tantric and Qabalistic implications. "Holy shit," he muttered, reading the details again. "The White Pillar of Form. The Black Pillar of Force. The Silver Middle Pillar that balances male and female…parallels to the ida, pingala and shushumna of Eastern Tantra...damn." Raising up that kind of energy, if that's what Teddy was actually up to, could have serious implications. "Never should have let her read Israel Regardie," he grumbled, as he snatched the phone out of its cradle.  
"Sheska!"  
"Yes, Mr. Edward?"  
"Free up my calendar around Teddy's spring break. Find me a decent 30 day fare from Los Angeles to San Francisco."  
"Yessir—oh, and Mr. Edward? I'm glad you mentioned San Francisco. Professor Teller at the Space Sciences Laboratory at Miss Trisha's school was wondering if you would consider teaching a summer course at Berkeley on your work on the early theories of rocketry with Professor Oberth and the Verein fur Raumshiffahrt before the war?"  
She heard a snort of ironic laughter. "Sir? Are you still there?"  
"Better find me a place to rent. Looks like I'm going to be in the Bay area for a while…"  
December 27, 1967  
Dear Uncle Edo—  
We really missed you at Christmas this year—don't know why Dad wanted us to take this trip out to the stinking Nevada desert. Sand and Christmas aren't good together, are they? Daddy says we'll make up for it and go skiing this summer so I can have snow in July! WOWW!.  
I got all excited when I opened the crate of stuff you sent me. You always pick neat things out for me. I really liked that amber necklace—Daddy says its millions of years old and told me all about where it comes from. Is it REALLY tree sap? It's almost the color of your eyes so I will think of you lots when I wear it. And I'm so excited about the guitar! Daddy told me you wanted me to pick it out myself here. He told me you thought I should learn so when I have 'wheezy days' I can learn songs and keep busy til I can breathe all better again. Maybe be as good as GEORGE HARRISON or KEITH RICHARDS some day! Yay ME! Hahahaha! I want to learn "Nowhere Man"—that's my fav song. All the books are great—I saw that note in "Alice Through The Looking Glass" you wrote in the front—asking me what kind of wonders were on the other side of MY OWN looking glass world. Daddy said you were serious and expected me to write you back a good answer.  
Do I THINK there are looking glass worlds? HUMMMMMM. Let me see. Maybe not like Alice had, with talking chess pieces and every thing stopping so somebody can say some poetry or something. I asked Daddy if anybody ever proved there AREN'T any other worlds and he said no. So I SAY that there MIGHT BE other worlds. You always say keep an open mind, Kiddo. So I will. I just would want my looking glass world to have my Mom and Daddy, and Alfons and Win. And it MUST have an Uncle EDWARD ELRIC or it is no fun at all! And I would like the Beatles to be there too!  
When you go to bed in London please look at the moon before you close the curtains. I will be looking at that same moon too and thinking hugs at you. (And if you see a Beatle, get me an autograph, okay?)  
I LOVE YOU XXXOOOXXXX!  
"Teddy"  
There were coffee stains on one corner of the old letter, painstakingly scribed by a ten year old with elaborate flourishes and curliqueues. He kept it in his personal effects, along with one scribbled on yellow foolscap, dated less than a year ago…  
May 1st, 1975  
Hi, Edo!  
I hate not seeing you on my birthday, but I'm so glad you'll be here for graduation! And I have some really TAA-DAAAH news: got in at Berkeley! And as I told you, I'm majoring in Journalism with a minor in Philosophy. Weird, huh? A journalist is expected to be objective—but philosophy's all about perception and points of view.  
I –loved—the Joseph Campbell books! Is that your getting back at me for making you read Carlos Castaneda? Hope you didn't do any of the things Carlos did—wierds me out to think of you sitting in the desert munching on peyote cactus and howling at the moon—and no, I did NOT do it either!  
Been thinking long and hard about this whole Red Coat business. That's why you sent me that Alice book years ago—to scope out whether or not I could deal with the idea of Amestris and the Gateway business. If we hadn't started all those talks long ago I'd have thought the dudes with the butterfly nets would be after you by now.  
And you sure kicked me down and made me understand I wasn't 'special' because I'm the one who gets to do this for the family. Some of that stuff you said cut me pretty deep, but it was honest and said with love. Besides, could I ever stay mad at you? I KNOW I'm no genius like you or Daddy, and I'm not a great scientific mind like Afons or Win. But as you said, it goes to me not because I had the answers, but because I had the QUESTIONS….and I was able to lay my disbelief to one side. I love my sibs, but every time you and Daddy start talking Gateway they sort of roll their eyes and say 'yeah, right!".  
But you and Daddy have had me reading my eyeballs out all these years—books they never thought to pick up. Books that challenge what we think is real.  
The only thing is-I feel kind of like those guys in those 1950's "Duck And Cover!" movies—the ones about 'how to survive an atomic blast!' by wrapping yourself up with wet newspaper and hiding under the table. Yeah, and while you're down there, stick your head between your knees and kiss your butt goodbye. Learning the 'theory' is all well and good—but without practice, how the heck would I know what to do IF there's a breach? I guess it's like learning CPR and hoping you never have to use it. And yes, I do understand why not everybody should know about this. I mean, look what happened when Orson Welles broadcast 'War of the Worlds' in the 40's. People went completely bugfuck. Imagine what the folks in Germany would think if they had a clue what was festering in their back yards, not to mention all the Small Gates Grandfather tried to make. So many holes in the dike, said the Dutch Boy, and not enough fingers.  
I can see this is going to seriously screw up my personal life…but yeah. Somebody's got to play guard dog, so it might as well be me.  
See you soon!  
Love always,  
"Teddy"  
PS: I can't wait for you to see my array—Daddy's going to have it cast in silver for me. It's a triple-spiral array—feels really good when I meditate on it. Daddy says it's called a Labyrinthine Array—says that your dad was researching them in Ireland and Wales when he was working with Churchill, so it's nothing original, damn it! Daddy also wants me to have gloves like his—that's okay, I guess. But the ring will be fine, and if anybody looks closely I'll tell them it's Celtic and they'll probably shut up.  
A third note, scrawled on a sheet torn off a college ruled notebook, was paper-clipped to that damnable police report:  
15 April 76  
Edo-  
Here are those definitions you asked for—in my words. How are they relevant now? Just wondering…  
EGGREGORE: a 'group soul' or 'group mind', subset of Jung's 'collective unconscious', that is created over time when two or more people are driven to unite towards a common goal. The eggregore is believed to factor into the theory of reincarnation—that souls sharing this strong common bound will seek to be reborn into this circle of common-thinking people, often unconsciously playing out roles they may have played in the past. In "ELRIC-ESE", wearing the Red Coat joins me into an eggregore with you, Daddy, Grandfather—and also with the teachers Dante and Izumi Curtis and all the others who studied in this alchemic line.  
DOPPLEGANGER: sometimes called a 'fetch' or 'evil twin'—a representation of a person who already exists. In ELRIC-ESE—a little different. If Amestris and Earth parallel each other, than there is a chance that people on one side of the gate may potentially have a 'twin self' on the other side of the gate. You said that you knew Daddy's doppelganger, the man my brother was named for, and that you saw several other doppelgangers when you crossed over—in fact that you took over the body of your own doppelganger when you went thru the Gateway and met your dad in London.  
ARE YOU HINTING THAT THERE ARE SOME DOPPLEGANGERS AROUND US NOW?-Ted  
"Hinting, kiddo?" Ed made his way up the aisle to the lavatory. "Let me put it tactfully as I can. One of you taught me how to walk on top of a moving train and bored me shitless with pictures of his daughter. One of you was my lover. And kid—don't make a big deal of this—but your dad lost his body and I lost an arm and a leg trying to bring you back from the dead."  
The sign on the door wheeled to OCCUPIED as he locked it carefully behind him. Digging into his breast pocket, he carefully tore his reply into small bits that fluttered into the steel bowl before him. "Kiddo—sorry. You're not ready for this. And I'm damned certain your 'Taisa' isn't, either."  
He didn't return to his seat. Not yet. Not while there was such a hot, compelling sweetness in his belly, making him break out in a sheen of sweat that smelled of steel and soap and human desire.  
Not when he could close his eyes and imagine the scratch of blue wool and crisp linen against his cheeks as he burrowed his face into the heated curve of an ivory neck. Deep under the pale flesh, under his greedy mouth, he could feel the pulse of a hidden river of need that jumped erratically the harder he sucked against that salty-sweet skin. It drove Roy up the wall.  
From the first time you put your hands on me, he bit back a groan, I've been starving. From the moment you stopped fighting the inevitable and laid me down at long-goddam-last, you used something stronger than alchemy to blow away that part of me that was stubbornly walled off by my pride and arrogance. That part that refused to walk on the Dog's leash. That wouldn't let me sell my soul for a pocket watch. The part that could still despise you for your machinations and your arrogance and that goddamned smirk I wanted to wipe off your fucking face with my fist and my kisses. You touched my flesh and I gave up for good, damn it. And once it was done I clawed frantically at you, refusing to let you walk away from it. I wanted to be possessed. Owned.  
Yours.  
Poetry. Damn it. Only you, Roy, could make me moan and sweat, wiping all intelligent thought right out of my brain…and then when that need comes over me and the only hand to touch me is my own, I start sounding profound, not primal.  
I gave you FIFTY GODDAMN YEARS of yearning on this side of the Gateway. FIFTY GODDAMN YEARS of spilt seed, tears and cold nights. Wondering if you ascended to power. Were you crushed by your own ambition? Or did you died a nameless statistic, frozen and unmourned in that northern outpost? You call that equivalent exchange?  
I waited fifty years for you to close that fucking Gate to Amestris behind you and come home to me.  
You chose Sleep's dark and silent Gate instead. A passage that brings forgetfulness.  
I can't blame you. To be washed clean of the horrors of Ishbal and Bradley, to take birth one more time with unstained hands. An unscarred body, both eyes intact. And no memory of my flawed young body, burning in the sheltered dark with you.  
"Ahhh….god!" God. Why did you send Al ahead and stay behind? Was there really no other way? Was there no other alchemist willing to become the Guard Dog, to tend the Gate to make certain that the fools of Earth didn't attempt to breach our world again. God. That last, desperate kiss—"Al—I'm sorry, but…" and I crushed you to me. I never forgot the way you smell. Your taste. I wanted to run my lips over the ruin under the eyepatch. I wanted to kiss away the shame, to tell you to throw that damned thing away. Let me…let me see it, Roy. Don't turn away. You never turned away from me or my scars…or my guilt, either.  
And now…I am old without aging and tired from my long years of wanting.  
That spark of you—that part that can never be truly deconstructed—was ignited on this side of the Gateway. You have been placed in my path once more, Roy Mustang. Teddy and Hughes have no idea what they did to you when they brought you home, did they? We are actors called back for another performance, you and I. We've made a farce for the cruel gods of Amestris. This time…on this side of the Gate, in another play, where the Hero is an old man who wakes the sleeping memory of his handsome young prince with a kiss…if he's lucky…  
"….Roy….yes…"  
It was barely a whisper, as he intended. The face in the mirror looked scalded, the blood so high in his cheeks that someone—surely the flight attendant—would ask if he was all right.  
What the hell could he tell her?  
My niece is meeting me at the gate with one of her roommates. I'm going to shake his hand. And he is going to ignite me, even without his gloves.  
The small, slim man returned to his aisle seat, and his excitement and dread had become so strong the tiny twig of golden hair that poked comically over his forehead was quivering..  
He'd have spotted her anywhere, even without that ridiculous sign that read, "PSST! OVER HERE, EDO!". Did it jolt Al, too—the resemblance? Winry's eyes, yes. Something of Hoenheim's sharpness to the nose and the tilt of her mouth. But the tawny hair, the laughter, even the shape of her hands were unmistakable.  
Al, damn my soul—if I've got one. I put you through all that hell…and all we had to do was wait. She came back to us. Mom came back, and I held her the way she held me on the day I was born. She died a homunculus. And came back as an alchemist…or as much an alchemist as we can make of her, all things considered. Maybe…just maybe…we can get it right this time as a family.  
…and last night she shared a bed with Maes Hughes-and the love of my life.  
"Edo? This is my roommate, Roy Mustang."  
"The one from the police report?" A long pause as the professor adjusted his glasses. "Nice to see you with your clothes on, son."  
FLASH FORWARD—ONLINE AT RISEMBOOL EAST, TOKYO—PRESENT DAY  
hugheslineisitanyway:Orlando! Freakin' sweet, Ted! You want some company?  
labyrinthine: Daddy's coming with me—got some family business. But yeah—it would be great to travel with you and the family. I was thinking Disneyworld.  
hugheslineisitanyway:Let's make it a fivesome. I can get off, and Gracia would love to see the two of you—and Elysia is crazy about your dad. I've got this huge family van, DVD player and everything. We could split the gas. Be like old times!  
labyrinthine: Hang on—let me IM Daddy. (AWFKB-BRB)  
Daddy says great idea—will IM you tomorrow with details. Don't  
forget to pack your Queen cd's—gotta do Bohemian Rhapsody—it's tradition! NIGHT! :hugs to the Hughes clan:  
hugheslineisitanyway:hugs back to the Elrics: Night, Ted!  
"What the hell does this mean?"  
There was a yellow Post-It note on his new Dell laptop. On the table beside Taisa's computer was a chocolate cupcake with a birthday candle stuck in the top. The snack didn't make a lot of sense, but at least it was delicious. Chocolate was a concept Mustang could grasp at 11:30 at night.  
What he couldn't decipher was the significance of the message on the sticky note:  
"WELCOME TO THE CARIBBEAN, LOVE"  
"What the fuck….?"  
…..TO BE CONTINUED….

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

NOW…  
NOW….departure for Los Angeles T minus four hours and counting…..  
"No, it's quite alright," Alphonse-san assured her. "Your usual time will be fine. The doorman will send someone up for our baggage and we'll be out from underfoot before you can start dusting."  
Watanabe Ai, housekeeper for the Elric-Mustangs for the past five years, paused in the coffee shop down the block to fish two aspirins from her purse, washing them down with her tea. After a moment's debate, she also ordered herself a large sweet bun, filled with red bean paste. Today, she predicted, might be strenuous—best to make sure she had plenty of energy before she waded into the chaos that was undoubtedly exploding behind the door of the penthouse apartment shared by the tall, gentle one, the short cantankerous one and the one who was simply too wonderful to look at without blushing, even at her age.  
Of course, the three bachelors always remembered to fix a thermos flask with her favorite hot tea and left a snack out for her, scolding her and acting wounded if she did not enjoy the treats during her mid-morning break. She always packed her own o-bento for lunch, and if Alphonse-san was home he would join her, chatting easily with her as if she were a beloved auntie and not simply hired help. She was paid generously, treated with great kindness—even by the ferocious Mister Edo-san—and found that she actually looked forward to the three days a week she spent in the Elric's employ.  
Not that she hadn't gotten a few nasty shocks in the first couple of weeks, the worst of which had been her first encounter with Einstein.  
She'd been carefully dusting the bookshelf when she heard a soft skittering sound. Thinking it to be one of Alphonse-san's five cats she paid no attention…right up until she glanced at the shelf above her and noted a pair of blood colored eyes staring down at her above a long muzzle which terminated in a pair of dirty orange teeth. She gasped and drew back her feather duster. The creature made a strange, whistling sound and its eyes began to wiggle, rapidly pulsing in and out, whiskers twirling wildly. Terrified, she swatted it. It jumped, making a beeline for her cleavage, tiny claws scratching at the lace on her underwear.  
Soon as the paramedics left, Mustang-san came to apologize. "Gomen nasai, Ai-san," he told her contritely. "He's harmless, really. Must have slipped out of his cage." Reaching behind his thick black hair he dug under his collar to produce a cinnamon colored rodent the size of a week old kitten. The monster chattered at her and the bloody eyes began pulsing again. This time, at least, there were cushions under her when she passed out.  
"It's called foofing and boggling," he explained when she'd come 'round again. "He was just letting you know he likes you. They puff air in their cheeks and it makes the eyes bulge in and out of their sockets. Rats are highly intelligent creatures, very clean and affectionate. Einstein is accustomed to jumping on my shoulder if he gets out and I hunt for him. I used to care for the rats in our college science lab, you see." He smiled a little. She could almost forgive him his ghastly pet for the sake of that rare show of open affection for the small creature that now snoozed in his hammock, safe and secure in his cage. "There was a rat with a broken leg. I was asked to euthanize it…and…well…I couldn't bring myself to kill. So I got a old bird cage and fixed it up and took the fellow home. Pasteur rode in my pocket to class for nearly two years. Finally died of a chocolate overdose when Mayland left out a whole packet of peanut M&M's and Pasteur found them when he went wandering one night. Only rodent in the entire history of Berkeley College to have a jazz funeral procession across the campus with Cal Band playing 'Nearer My God To Thee'. Leave it to Hughes." He began chuckling and wandered off to his office, presumably to feed his pampered pet a few more yoghurt drops.  
Then there was the incident with MisterEdo-san's tiny koi pool on the roof garden. The diminutive scientist would pour himself a cup of black coffee and perch on the rim of the pool after breakfast, scattering a handful of pelleted food over the water's surface. The first time she watched him he held a metal finger to his lips, then beckoned her to come closer. "I have them trained. They'll eat right out of my hand. Watch." Carefully he lowered his flesh hand below the rippling surface. His hand was immediately surrounded with gaping mouths. "Goddard—there you go," he grinned as a fat tri-colored fish lipped a pellet from his palm. "Oppenheimer? Oh, there you are! I know you're hungry….hey! Yuri! No nipping. Jeeze, that hurt! Now, where's….Yeager? Hey! Don't you want your breakfast? Are you hiding behind….oh, FUCK! NOOO! SONOVABITCHIN' CAT! Al? ALPHONSE! Where the hell are you?"  
The tall, soft-spoken brother hurried outside, looking alarmed. "Ni-isan? What's the trouble?"  
"The trouble," the elder brother bellowed, "is that goddamned Yao! Where is he? I wanna kick his ass. He's got koi on his breath, Al. He ATE Chuck Yeager!" Plunging his slim arm up to the shoulder, MisterEdo-san dug under the rocks by the filter. Withdrawing his arm he offered his brother a pitiful, half-gnawed carcass, the belly neatly bitten out of a prized blue long fin koi. "God, he was perfect!" the smaller man moaned. "I was hoping to breed him—and he wound up as cat food! A FIVE HUNDRED DOLLAR fish with a pedigree as long as your arm…and all that's left is to sift him out of the Tidy Cat and flush him."  
The guilty party, a handsome seal point Siamese of aristocratic bearing-and expensive tastes—had the ill manners to stroll serenely between the brothers, pausing to glare up at Edo-san, licking his whiskers at the sight of the skeletal remains of his midnight snack. With a howl of primal rage, Edo-san tore through the sliding glass door after the culprit, cursing in several languages. Yao burst through the door of Mustang-san's office where the younger man was composing an email to his friend Hughes. Einstein sprawled across the desk belly up, and Mustang-san was idly scratching the rat's bloated tummy. Rocketing across the desk, Yao neatly snatched Einstein from under those caressing fingers and hared off towards the kitchen, Mustang-san hot on his tail and Einstein squealing in terror.  
"See! See that, Al? Now the little fucker is taking hostages! C'mere, asshole!" Edo-san dove under the table, snatching frantically at Yao's tail.  
"Drop him, Yao!" Mustang-san bellowed! "Put him down, NOW!"  
"He didn't mean to do it," Alphonse-san fretted aloud. "He's a rescue kitty, Ed! He had a very hard life before I took him."  
"Hard life, Al?" The cat had locked all for paws around Edo-san's metal arm, chewing frantically on his artificial thumb, having dropped his hostage and turned his feline wrath on his arch enemy, who's metal ankle had thwarted Yao's claws every time he attempted to swat at Edo-san from under the sofa. "Awww. Jeez. I'm so FUCKING sorry he's had a hard life. Tell ya what—let's take him down to the shelter…so he can move on to LIFE NUMBER TWO!"  
Alphonse-san was mortified. "Ni-isan! You—you don't mean it, do you?"  
Edo-san held his right arm straight out from the shoulder. Yao clung to it like a burr, rabbit-kicking frantically, ears pinned, growling in frustration. "Equivalent exchange, Al. My prized fish—your psychotic Siamese!"  
Alphonse-san looked to Mustang-san for support. Mustang-san was tenderly cradling Einstein against his chest, inspecting him for open wounds. Digging into his pocket he produced a yoghurt drop which went a long way to calming his pet down. "Sorry, Al," he sighed. "he peed on my slippers yesterday. I wasn't going to tell you…but that cat's got to go."  
As if he could hear the ominous sound of violin strings being plucked—made from his own vitals—Yao dropped gracefully from Edo-san's outstretched arm. He sauntered over to Ai-san, offered her a seductive, "Yaaaaooo?" and began dancing figure 8's around her ankles. Unable to resist, she bent down and scratched a velvety ear. Yao leapt up into her arms, wrapped his paws possessively around her neck and began purring and drooling as if smitten by her charms.  
They paid her a double bonus to take Yao off their hands, and Alphonse-san gladly paid for his annual vaccines and check ups. Alphonse purchased another fine koi to appease his brother—this one was named Yeager Mach 2. Einstein got a new chewie toy and some lovely chicken bones to gnaw, his favorite treat.  
Arriving promptly at 8 am, Ai-san let herself into the penthouse.  
Dead silence. The brothers and Mustang-san had already left for the airport. Old Pinako, fat and lazy with her many years, chirped at her, then coiled herself contentedly in a spot of early morning sun filtering through the curtains from the deck.  
There was a note on the kitchen counter for her:  
"Dear Mrs Ai-san—we left early—there's always a bit of trouble getting through security, so we allow time for it. The fish have been fed, and the pet service will be up to take care of the cats and Einstein, so don't worry about them.  
"Taisa made some delicious biscotti—the tin is next to your morning tea—please try them. Oh, and my brother says that the master bedroom is a bit of a mess—he's added something extra to your pay packet in case you want to hire someone in to clean it if you think you need help. I haven't the foggiest idea of what he means. Oh, and Mustang-san says thank you for remembering the extra starch in his good shirts.  
"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call Sheska—she's got your number and hers is written below. Sheska also has our itinerary. Edward-san and Mustang-san will be flying out of Los Angeles on the day after tomorrow to the Caribbean island of Ranamuerte. I will be meeting my daughter and the Hughes family for a RV trip to Disneyland from Los Angeles. Not expecting anything but a wonderful vacation for all of us. See you when we get home."  
"Alphonse Elric"  
Turns out she was grateful for Miss Sheska-san's assistance. Where, Ai-san inquired, might she find a discreet cleaning service that could remove what appeared to be several pounds of melted chocolate from the sheets, walls and half the clothes in the closet—along with the ruptured content of at least two feather pillows?  
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please! In accordance with safety regulations for U. S. bound departures, please place all metal objects in the tray and prepare to pass through the metal detectors on the way to your departure gates."  
"DAMN IT!"  
The air hostess approached the small angry man in the first class with a nervous smile. He looked as if he might bite her. The other passengers looked as if they might bite him. After all, he was solely responsible for the flight's 2 hour delay out of Narita International.  
The altercation had been a bit ugly. The small gentleman had set off the metal detectors. He had pushed up his sleeve and pants leg to indicate that his prosthetic limbs were in fact crafted of metal. Apparently this had not satisfied the security agents. After an exchange of angry words, the small man had growled, "All right , goddamn it! I KNEW this would happen!" To their astonishment, the small man stripped. Right down to a pair of running shorts. He had offered to doff those too. The dark haired man who appeared to be his life partner looked extremely irritated, while the taller, soft spoken man simply sighed and looked the other way. The security guards drew their guns. The small man clapped his palms together and looked like he would chew them in half if they touched him.  
A member of security conducted a private inspection of Mr. Elric's limbs, and while they appeared fearsome, there was no evidence that he was concealing any weapons. He argued about his clothing. "Why the hell should I get dressed? Soon as we land in LA, those assholes will put me through this all over again!" When the pilot himself appealed to Mr. Elric to put his clothing on so the plane could take off, the small angry man reluctantly zipped up his pants with an evil grin. "One more crack about my automail and I'll take the rest of it off!" he warned, stomping up the ramp to the doorway.  
She tried to be nonchalant as she poured Mr. Elric his coffee. He scowled up at her, muttering something that might have been 'thanks'.  
"Oh! Ohhhh…ummm…you're welcome, sir. And would you like cream or sugar in your ARM-ohhh, shit! I'm sorry!"  
The cup was crushed. Metal fingers tore at Mr. Elric's collar buttons. "All right, goddamn it! That does it! I'm flying to Los Angeles NAKED!"  
"I….can't take…you….anywhere, can I?"  
Gold eyes flicked up in exasperation. "You didn't drag me into the restroom e to fight, did you?"  
"I dragged you in here," Taisa hissed, "on the pretense of assisting you with a limb adjustment. And," he added as he dug into his breast pocket for the item he'd snuck past the security guards in all the chaos at Narita "to finish something you started this morning. Before the shower."  
Edward regarded the small plastic foil packet resting on Taisa's palm. "Dark?"  
His companion smirked. "Yeah. About 60. Bitter….and faintly sweet. Kinda like you." He wiggled the packet. "You like bitter, don't you?"  
The small, angry man was angry no more. He folded his eyeglasses and placed them carefully alongside the sink. "Some of the most delicious things I've tasted were on the bitter side." The red and gold packet was snatched away and torn between his teeth. A corner was snapped off. He popped it into his mouth before curling his metal fingers around Mustang's tie, hauling him down for a kiss. The fragment of Ghirardelli's most decadent chocolate passed from tongue to tongue as it had the previous night. "You made…ummm…a hell of a mess for Ai-san, asshole. Fuckin' feathers…"  
Taisa bit down hard on his lover's lower lip. "You were the one who started running, old man. I told you I was going to lick it all off"  
"Damn it, you started tickling me. I hate that shit. You know that."  
"So you had to go and swing a pillow at me? With the wrong arm?. Looks like a chicken sacrifice in there."  
"So we're Voodoo perverts! She'll get over it. God knows I pay her enough to keep her quiet." He chuckled as he unfastened Taisa's belt. "Remember that time Al asked her where we were—and we were amusing each other? Remember what she told him?"  
"How could I forget? 'MisterEdo-san and Mustang-san are rabu-rabu iku-iku right now. They come out when they're done, okay?' Mmmm…what are you waiting for?"  
"For you to scoot back, shithead! How am I supposed to get down on my knees when we're jammed in here like this?"  
"Fuck you! You're the pervert who likes to jerk off in airplane lavatories! I still can't believe you did it just before we met in 1976. Teddy would have died if she knew the real reason your face was so flushed."  
An automail hand shoved him back, down and onto the seat. It was a convenient height for what Edward had intended. Hardly romantic, but if the truth were told, Edward had never forgotten those feverish moments prior to touching down in San Francisco, knowing he was about to be reunited with Roy after half a century of yearning. Luring Taisa into this tiny washroom was a secret fantasy of his, made even sweeter by the danger and the chocolate.  
Chocolate, as he'd always appreciated, melted swiftly when applied to flesh. Amazingly complementary, Mustang and chocolate.  
Trembling fingers pulled the tie from his thick, soft hair, as golden as it had been when another dark haired man had groaned under his touch. "Daisuki desu to omou…Edowado."  
Edward nearly lost it. First time Taisa whispered those words to him were in the back seat of Teddy's VW Microbus, parked on a high bluff overlooking the bay, a Django Reinhardt tape setting the mood for that delicious first kiss, sweet with maple syrup and bitter with black coffee. It was so…so incredible…his face buried in Taisa's neck, hips grinding together…the flashing lights in the rear view mirror when they were interrupted…  
"Uhhh…how long have they been in there?" the young steward from Coach inquired to his team mate from First Class.  
The hostess whom had made the gaffe about Mr. Elric's arm glanced at her watch. "Ten minutes. And the other lavatory is out of service. Sorry, Paul, but I need you to check on them."  
"No sweat."  
"Ooh god…aijin… motto…Edo, you ero-oyjii…love you, Edo…hai…"Iku..IKU!"  
He was so far gone he'd forgotten to moan in English.  
He had also forgotten to be quiet.  
He was still trembling when the steward rapped smartly on the lavatory door.  
"Hellooo, young lovers! Are you all finished up in there? There's a line of desperate people out here needing to pee-pee. "  
"Christ!" Edward growled, staggering to his feet. "Get up, idiot! We've got to get out of here!"  
Taisa had collapsed back against the lavatory wall, his head hitting the FLUSH button. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his shirt clung damply to his chest and he had traces of chocolate on his thighs. And he was grinning—a blissed out, fucked out, mindless smirk of feline satisfaction. "Can't…move," he mumbled.  
Another rap. "Darlings, you can have your little Brokeback Jamboree some other time. I've got too many kitties and not enough litter boxes—and trust me, darlings, they are not going to let their lily white Crown Club asses be soiled by a Coach Class potty-so out you go, lovers!"  
It takes a certain amount of panache to face an aisle full of brimming bladders, shifting uncomfortably and glaring with undisguised fury as the tall dark haired man and the screaming nut job with the metal arm exited the lone working loo in first class. His fellow passengers recognized Edward as the idiot whose striptease and tantrum had kept them on the ground nearly two hours. The muttering got uglier as they pushed past the line and found their seats across the aisle from Alphonse, apparently engrossed in the in-flight movie.  
A few moments later, the pretty air hostess stopped by their seats, bearing a tray with two glasses of champagne and a note from Paul the Steward:  
"Champagne is on me. Enjoy your flight to Los Angeles—Paul  
PS: Mr. Elric—you've got chocolate on your chin  
PPS: Mr. Mustang—you might not have noticed, but your cell phone went down the loo. Must have happened when Mr. Elric pulled your pants down. The toilet keeps flushing—I don't know what you hit it with , but the button is stuck. The cell phone won't go down and in about five minutes the bulkhead passengers are going to get their sanctified first class tootsies tainted with you-know-what.  
'Hope you backed up your phone book and that you don't have any pictures stored on your Raz'r  
"Can't remember when I had this much fun on a flight. Ciao, darlings!"  
NOW—Los Angeles International Airport  
The security detail at the International Gate had already been alerted.  
So had the Elric Family Defense Team.  
"Good afternoon, gentlemen." A tall, deep chested man in a finely tailored suit, a single gold earring and penetrating green eyes approached the armed guards. "Mayland Alexander Hughes. Counsel for Mr. Edward Elric and the Elric Research Foundation. If I may have a few minutes of your time…"  
The gist of it was simple. Elric was elderly and eccentric and a double amputee. "Stress of trans-Pacific travel. May have affected his metabolism. Bi-polar, you see. On some rather potent medication. This is Ms. Gracia Evans, a health care professional. She will examine Mr. Elric and will make sure he receives prompt medical attention if need be. I've come to assist Mr. Elric and his party. I am certain there will be no further incidents."  
"Uhhhh….?"  
The lovely brunette extended a slender hand. "Pleasure to meet you, officer. And thank you for being so understanding about Mr. Edward's condition. A brilliant mind—he's just a little excitable, and understandably shy about having his artificial limbs examined. We have a family member here to collect the Elric Party."  
A short, curvy woman with deep blue eyes stepped forward with an easy smile. She wore a press pass around her neck, identifying her as working for Dog Eat Dog productions. A squat, dumpy man in a trench coat and a ball cap was at her side. Five men with video cameras were at his side. He wrung the officer's hand firmly. "Michael Moore," he grinned. "Doing a follow up on Homeland Security in our airports. My associate, Ms. Elric, had been alerted that there was some concern that her handicapped, elderly uncle might be subjected to harassment simply because he's been profiled as a difficult passenger in the past. She was worried that somebody might put him on a No Fly list just because he throws the odd tantrum…"  
"I love you." Taisa hugged Teddy fiercely. "You are…are…fucking…brilliant."  
"No—Hughes is fucking brilliant," she laughed, kissing him on both cheeks. "Not to mention a world class bullshitter. And Gracia was glad to help, all things considered." An odd look skated across her face, like there was something more she'd like to say but didn't dare. She shook her head and grinned again. "And since I volunteered my time to work with Mike on Sicko, Mike was more than happy to show up in hopes of seeing a 'gay, aging bi-polar cripple' being dragged off that plane in handcuffs. He's doing an upcoming documentary on how the elderly are treated in the U.S. This would have been genius footage!"  
"Which Ed would have torn apart with his teeth," Mustang chuckled. "And he'd have given you that 'automail ass-whuppin' he's always threatened you with..."  
"…and never delivered. And never will."  
"I wouldn't be too sure of that."  
Teddy whipped around to see her uncle, flanked by Hughes and her father, Alphonse, both grinning at her. She dashed forward and hugged and kissed her father, then winked up at Hughes, ever her co-conspirator.  
Then she greeted her uncle. Her sensei. She bowed. "Edo."  
He barely nodded. "Kiddo."  
She moved closer. Touched the tip of her nose to his. "Love you."  
He snorted. "Damn right you do." Then he hugged her tightly, hissing in her ear, "And who the fuck are you calling an aging bi-polar cripple—"  
"-you forgot 'gay'," she prompted.  
"—who needs to have his meds adjusted? If you ever humiliate me publicly like that again, you're going to have automail imprints on your butt 'til the day you die!"  
FLASHBACK—BERKELEY, 1976  
Teddy had been the last one to crawl in bed that night, having gone off with her uncle for a few hours after they dropped Mustang off at the Den of Iniquity. Hughes had spent the day lurking in the editing room at the campus radio station, presumably in terror of his first encounter with the dignified research scientist, rumored to induce cardiac arrest in the fiercest of predators. He huddled in the back behind a locked door, munching packets of stale crackers from the vending machine in the hall and swilling down the bitter dregs of his coffee pot for nourishment, even though he knew he could have had an excellent luncheon at one of the best restaurants in town. The charms of Chez Panisse paled when compared to the very real hazard of having his vitals gnawed out by the ferocious Edward Elric. He'd parked his Gremlin a mile down the block, slipped in through the back door, hastily showered and dove into bed with all the lights off.  
Roy had been unusually quiet after returning from lunch. He hiked down to the pet store for some lab blocks and cage litter for Pasteur, the plump rodent riding contentedly in the pocket of his oldest lab coat. He scrubbed and disinfected the cage, improvised a rat hammock from an old washrag and some paperclips, then decided the bathtub needed scrubbing. This led to a maniacal assault on the kitchen floor and windows with the mop and a bucket of Spic and Span. Formula 409 was spritzed on fingerprints around the light switch. Pillows were plumped. Books were dusted and fossilized pizza crusts were routed out from under the sofa.  
In short—Roy was getting everything tidy…just in case.  
Golden eyes. Teddy, you forgot to tell me he had golden eyes. Steaming water sluiced over naked skin that felt too hot, too sensitive. One part of him was oh so sensitive tonight—a part that was begging for attention. All he had to do was slip into bed, shake Mays by the shoulder and in about 15 or 20 minutes he'd be bonelessly relaxed and sliding easily into sleep, cuddled up against that gorgeous fuzzy chest. And Mays would be grinning. Nothing stroked that man's ego like the knowledge that he could single handedly keep both Roy and Teddy satisfied, and of course Roy and Teddy enthusiastically returned the favor, usually in tandem. The blowjob competitions had become deliciously fierce—Teddy had a slight edge of experience, but Taisa was gaining on her, knowing precisely which flicks and strokes could make a man beg for mercy. A rematch would be fun…no…might have been fun.  
With a groan, Tasia's eyes slid shut as he slicked his hand with some of Teddy's Herbal Essence shampoo. He was in the shower of a three-star hotel, a golden-eye'd man kissing him deeply, caressing him with warm metal fingers, his fair hair clinging to his back and shoulders…  
Teddy had let herself in. She wasn't smiling. Taisa thought he'd heard muffled sobbing from the shower.  
A long while after Taisa had finished and crawled in beside a snoring  
Hughes, Teddy slid into bed. She nestled against his side, her forehead pressed against his bare shoulder. He needed to talk. He suspected she didn't want to. After awhile, her breathing became soft and even, although he detected that slight whistling sound that told him she'd 'taken a hit off the asthma bong". Maybe there'd been a discussion about the police report. Probably was. They has been raided twice more, and Roy was pretty damned sure it had more to do with catching them fucking their collective brains out versus any real search for narcotics on the premises. Edward Elric had probably come down here on behalf of Teddy's parents. From what he'd heard about Winry Elric, she was furious….  
Now…that was a thought. He could meet Edward privately, explain to him that Teddy wasn't really to blame…she was just…just…  
A warm hand slipped into his. "The keys are on the kitchen table."  
HUH?  
"I don't have class until after 1:00."  
"No problem, Teddy. I'll get you to class. Taisa, get going, dude." A broad hand gently slapped his bare buttocks. "Teddy? Check his breath."  
A soft, sweet mouth covered his. A quick dart of a questing tongue. "I'd brush again and use the Scope. You had garlic bread with your Spaghetti O's, didn't you?"  
Before he could protest further he was hauled unceremonially out of bed. Hughes dug in the drawer for clean underwear and socks. From the closet Teddy produced a pair of chinos and a dark blue shirt. They marched him into the bathroom, making sure he used deodorant but no cologne—"Edo's got a sensitive nose"—combed his hair, wiped down his boots and picked out a belt that was 'easy to take off with one hand'.  
"But—but-it's almost midnight," he protested weakly. "He's probably asleep."  
"The hell he is," Teddy chuckled. She yanked out his wallet, peered inside and frowned. She and Hughes returned it to his pants pocket, adding two rumpled twenties to his lonely ten, all that was left after buying rat chow and bedding and the can of Spaghetti O's that had been his supper. "He's always hungry in the middle of the night. Go find a diner. Stuff him with waffles and coffee and he'll talk all night. And don' t let him pay—he's your date, okay? Oh-and hang on a sec She dashed to her tape case, fished around a little and then pressed a cassette in his hand. "Play this. No explanations. Trust me on this."  
Taisa turned the tape over and read the label. "Quintette du Hot Club de France?"  
She grinned. "I'll light a candle to Saint Django. Get going!"  
And he was gone.  
A strawberry candle flickered in front of a framed photograph of a handsome dark haired man with a thin mustache, a cigarette between his lips and a guitar. Django had been Teddy's personal patron saint of the impossible. "Ou Est-Tu, Mon Amour?" played softly in the background as Teddy and Mays gently swayed together. "Well, Dale Evans," he drawled softly, "looks like Roy Rogers done rode off into the sunset with the Old Prospector. Hope ol' Edward's got a good grip, 'cause that there Mustang is a wiiiiild ride. Yeeeehaw!"  
She bit him gently on the neck. "If he's Roy Rogers and I'm Dale Evans, what the hell does that make you? The horse's ass?"  
He bit her back and whinnied softly. "Ya wanna ride, pretty cowgirl?"  
She pressed her face into his chest. "I—I'm just worried, Mays."  
His fingers gently soothed her, rubbing her shoulders. "I know, baby girl. You love them both. You don't want to see them get hurt. But," he smiled down at her, "I've got a good feeling about this…"  
TO BE CONTINUED….

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

THEN: Berkeley, 1976 FLASHBACK—BERKELEY, 1976  
Roy hadpaced up and down the carpeted halls of Hotel Beau Sky, inwardly arguing withhimself about the merits of running like hell versus the rewards of knocking onthe door of Room 20. Beau Sky was a stunning inn off Telegraph avenue, more of aglorified bed and breakfast, having once been a grand Victorian summerhouse. When he arrived, theconcierge greeted him by name. " ? Professor Elric is expecting you. Suite twenty is up the stairs and toyour right, end of the hall."  
Professor Elric is expecting you? Damn you,Teddy! You must have called to tell him I was on the way. Only the lateness of the hour and the factthat every eye in the lobby was trained on him prevented him from bolting outthe door, down the steps and into the night.  
Screwing up his courage, he rapped smartly on Edward Elric's door. Aninstant later it swung open. He was leaning against the wall, head tiltedslightly to one side. A crisp white shirt, collar open. No tie. Waistcoat neatlybuttoned. Hair combed into a tight ponytail that fell below his wire rimmed glasses, golden eyes looked pleased and a little uncertain,almost shy.  
And the beard was gone completely.  
Teddy had been spot on about her uncle's dining habits—he attacked his stack ofwaffles as if he'd been starving all day. Must have a speedy metabolism, Mustangdetermined, nervously picking at his own short stack of buttermilk time the old man smiled at him he squirmed just a fraction lower in thebooth, as if he feared his burgeoning erection might hoist the table off thefloor. And, to his surprise, Edward Elric smiled a lot more than he hadexpected. He was sharp, observant, unquestionably brilliant and for a man of hisyears he was surprisingly well informed about popular culture and music.  
"A colleague of mine offered me a pair of tickets to see Elton John this coming weekend in San Francisco. He thought Teddy would enjoy it, but she says she's singing at an Equal Rights Amendment fundraiser and Hughes is coming along withher. Says he's manning a dunking booth—something like 'Dunk the Sexist Pig,Three Shots For A Dollar Donation to the National Organization of Women".  
Roy couldn't hold back his laughter, nervous as he was. "Hughes Outed me on campus radio, so as part of his apology he had to volunteer for each of our causes. I was the one who suggested the booth. Mays will have fun and Teddy's sisters will make a fortune off him."  
Edward paused mid bite. "So what did he do for you?"  
"Everheard of the Lambda Alliance?"  
Edward nodded. "Promoting goodwill between Gays, Lesbians, Bisexuals and Straight people on college campuses. I've also heard of Mattachine, although I've never joined. So what did you get Hughes to commit to?"  
"He's going as my date to the Lambda Lavender Ball. In a dress, heels and a tiara. Teddy's going too, just to make damn sure he doesn't chicken out."  
"Well," Edward chuckled, "if Hughes is in the dress, what the hell is my niece going towear?"  
"White tie and tails with an opera cloak. She actually pulls it off. The Daughters of Bilitis will be fighting over her."  
Elric refilled his coffee cup before fixing him with one molten gold eye. "Do you and Hughes fight over her too?"  
"No."Taisa was honest and direct.  
"Are you Teddy's lover as well?" Edward pressed him.  
After along time, Mustang confided the truth. "I had never been with a woman. Teddy told me that I shouldn't come out until I knew what I was giving up. She was surprised when I asked …ah…there wasn't anybody else I'd have trusted enough to…try….with." His cheeks burned as his voice trailed off. "She…was patient. Very gentle. And she never held it against me that I—"  
-couldn't?" Edward offered.  
"Couldn't." Roy was grateful that he didn't have to elaborate further."She ended up teaching me about therapeutic massage and Reiki…and that there's more than one kind of love that a man and woman can share."  
"Agape,' Edward nodded. "Love of the spirit, versus Eros, the love of the flesh. If that's what you share, you'll be a part of each other's lives no matter what. And what about Hughes?"  
Taisa grinned. "I believe the popular term is 'best friends and fuck buddies'. We have fun. He was my first, and he helped me see it's all right and that I can..um…you know."  
Elric put down his fork and his fingers touched Roy's hand. Roy clasped the professor's hand firmly and met his eyes without embarrassment. "Will you come with me to see Elton? After all," he chuckled softly, "he's one of us."  
Taisas wallowed hard and nodded, thankful that the table shielded the front of his chinos from his companion's eyes. If they'd been alone—if he'd been bold enough,he'd have purposely dropped his fork, crawled under the table and…and…  
…and then inspiration struck him. The tape in his pocket. Arlo, Teddy's VW Microbus, had a damned good stereo system, and Hughes had mentioned a secluded bluff overlooking the bay. "Professor Elric…do you like Django Reinhardt?"  
It began in the front seat. They sipped their coffee in Styrofoam to-go cups as the glorious Gypsy swing of The Hot Club of France washed over them, fueling the fire that pulsed gently between their clasped hands. At long last, Edward's fingers brushed Taisa's cheek. "Want to dance?"  
Taisa was confused. "Where? Here?"  
Edward snorted. "No, idiot. Outside. Under the stars. Come on."  
There was the question of who would lead. "I will, of course," the Professor told Mustang firmly.  
"Why? Because you're older?"  
"No…because I can't dance backward with an artificial leg. Step in a hole and I'm up shit creek."  
"And I sprain my ankle. That sucks too," Roy argued. "Besides, if you spin me, I'll never make it under your arm."  
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING SHORT, MUSTANG?" his companion roared. "ARE YOU SUGGESTING"  
"Jesus, but I see where Teddy gets her temper! Look, I wasn't trying to insult you,Edward. I just…fuck it. Just forget it." Roy was about to climb back into Arlo before Elric caught the back of his belt and tried to haul him back down.  
"Forget, my ass," Edward grumbled. "Get back here, Roy Mustang! I wanna dance!"  
"Hell,I wish I could forget your ass,"Taisa shot back over his shoulder. "Those tight pants of yours are driving me crazy, old man."  
Edward let go of Mustang's belt, his hands sliding sensuously over his back instead."Taisa…I don't give a fuck who leads.I just want to hold you, okay?"  
My heart is sad and lonely  
For you I sigh, for you, dear, only  
Why haven't you seen it?  
I'm all for you, body and soul…  
Roy folded the smaller man against his chest, canting his hips carefully back so that his erection wouldn't betray him. Edward Elric was having none of his fingers through Roy's belt loops he pulled the younger man close,body to body, and Roy made a small ecstatic noise as he felt a welcomed hardness answering his own desire.  
I tell you, I mean it  
I'm all for you, body and soul…  
Ohhh.God.He was so fucking beautiful, but there was nothing feminine or delicate about the man in Taisa's arms, unless you compared it to the slim grace of a rapier drawn from its scabbard. The curve of the older man's cheek fitted neatly into his shoulder, and as the music carried them he heard a soft, light baritone murmuring the shamelessly romantic lyrics he'd learned in his thirties, half a century before, from an old review starring Gertrude Lawrence:  
My life a wreck you're making  
You know I'm yours for just the taking  
I'd gladly surrender myself to you, body and soul  
Edward looked up into Taisa's dark eyes ashe sang the last chorus. "My life—a wreck you're making…"  
Trembling slightly, Roy bent his dark headdown, breath ghosting against Edward's lips with the answering line. "You know I'm yours for just the taking…"  
I'd gladly surrender myself to you…body... and soul…  
NOW—CHEZ HUGHES, OUTSIDE OF LOS ANGELES  
"Cowboy, want a refresher?" He waggled the scotch bottle enticingly. A glass was shoved forward, a measure of strong spirits splashed over the ice before it was handed back. "What about you, love of my life?"  
Gracia glanced down the hall. "I'm going up to bed, but I'm checking on Teddy you see the expression on her face when she came out of the basement with Edward and Alphonse?"  
Hughes stirred his drink with his index finger, licked the Glenlievet from his skin(Edward had told him years ago that life was too short to drink cheap liquor)and exchanged looks with an equally baffled Mustang. "Should we have? Anything wrong?"  
He was surprised by the sharpness of her answer. "God—you two! Absolutely clueless!She's probably been crying her eyes out in the guest room and her best friends have been knocking back drinks and bullshitting with each other"  
"—hey,now—"  
"Gracia! That's not fair—you know how private she is—"  
The lovely brunette wasn't buying it.—and it's pretty clear that wherever this wild chase is leading Teddy and her dad, it's dangerous and she's scared. And unlike you jokers, she's having to face it alone."  
Taisa and Mayland were both staring at her. "Teddy? Alone? She's got us! And Al and Edward, and you and—"  
"—and she's alone in her bed." Gracia finished coldly. "Taisa, who fixed you up with Edward?" Mustang opened his mouth. A sharp gesture from his friend's wife cuthim off. "And Mays and I wouldn't have met if Teddy hadn't thought we'd be good together."  
Hughes couldn't help grinning at his bride. "Best thing she ever did for me. But what's your point, darlin'?"  
"She's made sure the two of you had your little happily ever afters. All that study of alchemy—and it couldn't conjure up somebody to put her first in his life. And neither of you bothered to keep an eye out for someone who might be holding her right now, helping her get through the night." She shook her head, cheeks flushed with anger. "I love you, sweetie, but you're as clueless as the Cowboys ometimes. Good night!"  
"Pardner…the lady's got a point."  
Mustang tipped another measure into his glass. "Yeah," he agreed heavily. "She does. And Alphonse has been begging her to move to Tokyo with us. There's a condo vacant in our building—or there's plenty of room in ours. Ed's all for it."  
Greeneyes regarded him wearily. "You?"  
"I….I'm with Gracia. They want her back in the nest. She's afraid she'll be needs to fly. But she's been solo too long. And there's not one goddamned man I personally know that isn't either married, gay or not good enough to introduce to her. Hell, I want her happy. After all the two of you did to get me and Ed back together after what happened that first night…we need a miracle, damn it. And that's a horrible thing to say about a member of my family."  
Hughes stared fixedly into the depths of his drink, as if waiting for some prophesy tobe revealed within the swirls of bubbles in the ice cubes. He slammed his glass down abruptly. "Miracle," he breathed. "Miracle. Damn…that's it!" He lurched to his feet, feeling only minimal pain. "Mustang!" he urged. "Elycia's art box is on the kitchen table. Go get that, a couple o' candles from the bathroom, and meet me in the basement."  
"Hughes, you are out of your fucking mind," Taisa protested. "This is insane."  
Brandishing a set of fruit-scented child's markers, his friend grinned maniacally.  
"Insane enough to work. You weren't there when Teddy worked a Django on you, Bubba. She was so worried about you and Ed that she roped me into invoking Reinhardt as her personal Saint of the Impossible. Like St. Jude, kinda, but for guitarists. Reinhardt knew Ed personally. That Gypsy woman, Noa, introduced them. So when she needs a miracle,she lights candles to Django."  
Roy looked exasperated. "I know. And Iknow it doesn't always work. She's been a little mad at him since Winry was hoping she'd pull through after the bike wreck."  
Hughes nodded. "Alphonse lived, though. She could have lost both her parents."  
"—because he was sitting behind Winry. She took the full force of the logical part of Teddy understands that. But yeah—that's why that greedy bastard Christophe got his hooks in her ten years ago. If Django's ghost actually listens to her, he was probably watching over Alphonse at that time,trying to keep him from giving up from a broken heart."  
"Guess Reinhardt figured Teddy would kick Christophe out eventually under her own steam—which she did."  
The floor was smeared with alchemical arrays that Teddy had chalked under Edward's supervision, in rehearsal for the defensive alchemy she might be called upon to perform should the Orlando Gate be breached. Hughes couldn't make heads nor tails of them, but Taisa had lived with the Elrics long enough to see the subtle differences in each array.  
In theory, Teddy would draw two labyrinthine arrays—one in front of the portal, one at her own feet. She would draw it in the dirt using one of three specially designed daggers Alphonse had helped her craft in her twenties, otherwise itwould be drawn in chalk and traced with the daggers. The black dagger would be stabbed or laid flat into the center of the distant array, the white dagger would be used correspondingly in the closer array. If something actually tried to come through, Teddy would manipulate the array nearest to her so that the distant array would respond. She could therefore draw the activating energy awayfrom the Gateway, into the black alchemic dagger and transfer the power to the white dagger. She would effectively drain the power from the Gateway, preventing its use.  
And if somebody came through and stepped into the distant labyrinthine array, Teddy orAlphonse would step into its mate. Whatever they did to themselves with the silver knife would become instantly inflicted to the intruder-up to and including death.This much,the brothers decided, should not be shared with Taisa or the Hughes family.  
Teddy had agreed all along, but wasn't willing to sacrifice her father. "Sensei, I can wound myself and get over it. I'm younger.I'm….expendable. As you said, Uncle, I'm just holding the place until a better choice comes along. I can't have children. I'm not married. If I don't make it,Daddy can help you train Edwin, if he's as bright as you think he is."  
Edward agreed. Alphonse nodded, with greatreluctance. "Mischief…if something goes wrong—"  
"I'll do what I can to make sure it doesn't. If not…well, I'll give your regards to Django and John Lennon," she managed a grin.  
In a blank spot on the basement floor between two labyrinthine circles Hughes chalked out a third circle in white. He peered overhis shoulder at Mustang. "You're up, Cowboy."  
A red heart was added. In the center was written Trisha Edward Elric.Underneath, in Hughes' hand,a damn good woman who deserves a damn good man. Mustang added a few qualifiers:he must be free, straight, healthy, and financially independent.  
Hughes took the chalk again.Kind, good looking to her, honest and won'tclip her wings.Roy edited in blue:Intelligent. Devoted. Accepts her family.  
After a moment, Hughes added a few morelines.Accepts her weird alchemy 't fuck around on her.He paused. "What the hell—she'll thank me forthis."Should have a big dick and should know how to use it.  
Mustang rubbed that last line out. "Moron,"he growled.A true mate and lover to her who stands by her but not over we, her family and Gracia will love and approve of.  
Hughes snatched the chalk away and scrawled,Should have a big dick and should know how to use itagain. "Wipe it out and I'll beat the snot out of you,Cowboy."  
Mustang shook his head. "Now, you were talking about sacrifices?"  
Hughes nodded drunkenly. "The way I see it," he mumbled, "if we want her happy, then we need to make our mates happy. This is a novena to , y'see? Novena means nine days o' prayer and sacrifice, get it?"  
Mustang favored his friend with a sarcastic smirk."I'm familiar with the term, asshole. So what do you have in mind?"  
"Okay…this is the fun part." He rubbed his hands and cackled like a mad scientist. "For the next nine days—we have to get our partners off. We have nine days to give 'em nine orgasms. During the novena to St. Django, you gotta make sure ol' Tin-limbs gets his rocks off at least nine times before the novena is over. Harder for you than for me, buddy. Gracia's multiorgasmic like crazy! Just get my face between her legs andwhoooooo!She goes off like a fuckin' machine gun." His eyes began to glaze over with lust. "God, I love my wife!"  
Mustang remembered those heated minutes in theairplane lavatory and the taste of dark, bittersweet chocolate. He thought ofthe slim body curled around the pillows in the room upstairs, soft blond hair scattered carelessly. He thought of Caribbean sunshine. Isolated rain forest. Making love under the stars….yeah. This was beginning to sound like a damned good idea.  
"Uhhh…Taisa? Anything we need to get this thing revved up? I mean, if we were back in college—"  
The memory made Roy smile. He clapped Mayland's shoulder affectionately. "Save it for the lady upstairs. I'll see to Edward. As for this he gestured towards their childish efforts at alchemy, "hmmm…Hang on a sec." He poked around the shelves and came back with a small metal can and a grill lighter.  
A small ring of charcoal starter was dribbled around their array. "Don't know why, but this seems like a good idea," said Taisa Roy Mustang as the chalked circle was instantly licked by flames. A little bit had run off totouch the rims of the adjoining circles. Something tickled the back of Mustang'smind—was this supposed to remind him of something, or of something that needed to be done? He shook his head. Maybe they should have done this sober. What the hell. If it helped Teddy, wonderful. If nothing else, he and Edward had a very interesting nine days ahead of them…  
FLASHBACK—BERKELEY 1976  
Taisa was losing his English again. "Ed…Edwado…ohhh.God…yes…kuso!" Pinned to the middle seat of Teddy's microbus, holding on to the frame for dear life. Head flung back. Shirt open. And the distinguished Professor Edward Elric, famed for his lifetime ofresearch in rocketry and aerospace technology, was straddling his lap, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, groin to groin. He would have marveled how they had miraculously come close to the same height if his brain had still been his lover had found that dangerously sensitive spot on the side of his neck and had begun preying on it, each sharp nip sending delight sizzling down his spine and right into his loins.  
To make it worse, the slow, rhythmic churning of the smaller man's hips was making Taisa frantic. "God…Edo…do something, damnit!"  
"Mmmmmm….Taisa," Edwardbreathed into his ear, punctuating each syllable with a warm stab of the tongue."This is so…good. No…need to…rush…"  
"Damn you, Edward! Hamete chodai! Come on," his fingers kneaded the alchemist's taut buttocks. "Fuck me! God, you're driving me crazy!"  
Edward grew still. Rising up on his knees he cradled Taisa's sweaty face in his hands,gazing down at him, fifty years of yearning warring with the fierce need to dothis right, to make sure that the fires kindled tonight would do more than simply blaze and fade away.I want more than a fevered back-seat fuck with you, Roy. I want a lifetime. Your if that means I have to slam on the breaks tonight, I'll do it, even if means refusing what I've been craving all this time."Taisa…"  
At Edward's frown, Mustang began to panic. "D-don't you want me?"  
"More than anything. More than I've wanted anyone since I…as long as I can remember."  
Taisa clutched at Edward's hips, trying to pull him closer."Then…why?"  
"I don't want to fuck you, Taisa." His lips pressed softly against Mustang'sforehead. "I want to make love with you. And you deserve better," he gestured at the back seat of the VW van, "than this."  
For the span of a few heartbeats, they stared at one another. Finally Mustang asked, "Do you understand Japanese, Edward Elric? Teddy says you do." Edward nodded slowly."Good. Then understand this,Edowado:'daisuki desu to omou'. Know what that means?"  
Edward held his gaze. "Yes."  
"Translate it, damn it!"  
"It means, 'I believe myself to be feeling deeply for you', since 'I love you' never really caught on."  
"You Westerners—you throw the word 'love' around so cheaply," Taisa continued in alow voice. "The way you say Eros and Agape. All I know,Edowado, is that I want more than this…and we can have that.Will have that," he amended, 'if we don't fuck it up. But right now…I'm about to come in my pants. So if you would be so goddamned kind enough to either touch me or let me touch myself so I can calm down, we can get this screaming lust out of the way and start building a relationship. And if you're not inclined to wait either, I will be delighted to cool your jets as well. I've been told by a good authority," he added with a sly grin, "that I can 'suck the chrome off a trailer hitch'. You might enjoy it."  
Fisssstzzz…CRACKLEhisssss.  
"Station to Unit 6, go ."  
"Unit 6 to Station, roger that. Following up on report of trespassing on private property. A red VW microbus, California tag number WTF401 spotted in area known as the 'submarine docks'. Two occupants seen in backseat."  
"Roger that, Unit 6. Any suspicion of narcotics orweapons?"  
"Negative at this time. Probably a bunch of harmless,horny college kids, but it's good experience. Got a rookie riding with metonight."  
"Roger the rookie, Unit 6. Say, Kanetsky—who ya got? Breda?"  
"Nah. I drew Hawkeye this shift."  
"Damn, Annie Oakley the Second. Make sure she doesn't pop somebody's eye out with a peashooter, Unit 6. Station out."  
"Roger!"  
"Hawkeye!"  
"Sir!"  
"Remember, these aren't smack dealers—the occupants of that van aren't armed with anything more deadly than a pack of Trojans. Just scare 'em, warn 'em and get 'em out of here. If they give you any lip, signal for me—I'll bust them for trespassing."  
"Yessir! Shall I take Hurricane with me?" She reached behind the back seat to scratch a fuzzy ear. K-9 Agent Hurricane whimpered in delight.  
Kanetsky bit into a powdered sugar donut, licking his fingers. "Yeah,okay. And if he gets wind of anything, lemme know."  
It had gotten distinctly steamy in the van, so Taisa had opened the side door a crack—enough for a cool spring breeze, but not enough for any stray passersby tocatch a glimpse of what was going on inside.  
Or,rather, what was going down.  
The sanctity of Taisa's chino trousers was preserved—but only just in the nick of time. Roy recovered withgratifying speed, and with the ferocious edge taken off his lust he was able to focus more on the moment, and to think about reciprocation.  
"Edowado," he whispered urgently, "I think this seat will lay back. I want to please you too."  
"Muthggh tggh mh ng t tkk if migh mthfgggggll"  
"Huh?"  
Edward lifted his head and repeated himself. "Mother told me never to talk with my mouthfull."  
"Ohhh…god, you're such a smartass, old man! Come on—help me get this seat down. Where's the latch?"  
Edward crawled back up Mustang's lean body and fumbled at the back of the seat behind it. "I…think it's back here. I helped Teddy load this thing up when she left for…damn it…did you hear somethi….AAAAGGGHHH! SHIT!"  
Something cold and wet had poked Edward in the crack of his not attached to RoyMustang.  
In Hurricane's mind, this was just getting acquainted.  
In Professor Elric's mind, this was just fucking rude.  
Edward let out a yell and took a swing at the dog, who yelped in terror, causing the dog's human partner to kick the van door open, pistol drawn.  
"FREEZE, SCUMBAG!"  
A metal hand curled around the barrel of her revolver and snapped it off, just seconds before the county's Number One dope dog sank his teeth into Edward's left cheek.  
Teddy whistled serenely as she diced apples, chopped walnuts and raisins and stirred them into a bowl of chilled vanilla yogurt. The morning was fragrant with fresh organic coffee perking on the stove and hot banana muffins in the oven. She wasin a terrific mood. Spring break started tomorrow. Taisa was in love. She and Hughes had a wonderful romantic evening. Uncle Edo would collect the books and notebooks and the red coat and maybe say something nice about how hard she was working at her alchemic studies.  
Toeing on her slippers, she headed out the front door to pick up the morning paper. What she found on the front steps, instead, was the forlorn figure of Taisa Mustang—disheveled, head in hand, and apparently red eyed from crying.  
She sank down to her knees beside him. "Taisa? Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"  
When Hughes found them, they were locked together in a tight embrace, Roy's head on Teddy's shoulder. It was hard to tell who was crying harder. At last, Teddy noticed he was standing there. "Taisa's leaving," she told him.  
Then it was Mayland's turn to cry, too.  
NOW…  
I'm a girl, and by me that's only great!  
I am proud that my silhouette is curvy,  
That I walk with a sweet and girlish gait  
With my hips kind of swivelly and swervy.  
"I Enjoy Being A Girl", Flower Drum Song  
"Okay…this is the fun part." He rubbed his hands and cackled like a mad scientist. "For the next nine days—we have to get our partners off. We have nine days to give 'em nine orgasms. During the novena to St. Django, you gotta make sure ol' Tin-limbs gets his rocks off at least nine times before the novena is over. Harder for you than for me, buddy. Gracia's multi orgasmic like crazy! Just get my face between her legs and whoooooo! She goes off like a fuckin' machine gun." His eyes began to glaze over with lust. "God, I love my wife!"  
-Mayland Alexander Hughes….last night  
"Crotch rot? God, Gracie, that's disgusting!" Gracia had Teddy giggling so hard she backed into the end cap at Walgreen's and knocked over a huge display of Playtex Gentle-Glide tampons and Petals 'personal freshness' cloths, designed to make you feel 'confident, clean and refreshed'. "Do you kiss your sainted mother with that mouth?"  
"I do. I also kiss my daughter, my friends…and The Piledriver. Does wonders for my marriage."  
At the front of the store, where Alphonse Elric was picking up extra batteries for his camera, people at the checkout counter could hear hysterical shrieking echoing up from the Feminine Products aisle, where the mention of 'The Piledriver' had Teddy doubled up and gasping for breath. "Stopstopstopstopstop!" she wheezed. "You're seriously killing me!"  
"And Mays was seriously killing me last night," Gracia continued. "Nothing takes the edge off a romantic encounter like a yeast infection. That's when The Piledriver turns into a battering ram covered with spikes. I told him I'll do anything to get him off, but he'd better keep his pants zipped and his hands to himself until the Monistat-7 works its magic. The only thing I want between my legs right now," she waved the blue and white package, "is an applicator!"  
"And not the kind that made Elysia," Teddy snickered, digging in her purse for her 'asthma bong'. Hard bouts of laughter could bring on an asthma attack if the weather was humid enough, and the pollen count was high. Teddy had already stopped by the cold care section for another bottle of Mucinex and grabbed some contact lens solution on the way to meet Gracia among the stacks of Kotex and enticing boxes of personal lubricant. She grabbed a bottle of K-Y Intrigue and tossed it in her basket. "This is on me—as a get well present. By the time we get to Orlando, you'll be fine…and ready to rock!"  
Gracia eyes began to sparkle with mischief. "In which case…I might need one of these." A different blue and white box was tucked into her basket beside the Monistat-7, this one labeled Clearblue Easy.  
Teddy nearly swallowed her inhaler. "Oh…oh my goddess! Gracie? Are you and Mays-?"  
"We never intended Elysia to be an only child," she confided. "I've been off the pill and monitoring my cycle…so if we're lucky…and if you and Alphonse wouldn't mind babysitting in about…oh…say…ten days from now…you might get to be an auntie all over again!"  
A pair of mischievous grins greeted Alphonse at the check-out. "You girls got what you needed?"  
"Hang on a sec Teddy dashed down the cosmetics aisle and back, a yellow tube in her hands. She flicked it playfully at her friend. "Burt's Bee's Lip Balm. You're gonna need it, sister!"  
Gracia winked. "You forgot the hand lotion!"  
FLASHBACK—1976  
Four days without nourishment—a body can stand that, to a point.  
Four days without bathing—an esthetic issue, really. Ditto for shaving. And there's no point in brushing and flossing if nobody's going to kiss you.  
He'd tried to keep some water down. He'd try again later, maybe. His lips were already feeling dry and cracked.  
Everything was an echo. Especially the soft sobbing from the bedroom down the hall. Even if he'd heard it clearly he felt no inclination to say the proper words—to put on that mask of concern and pretend that her tears actually meant something to him. Remotely, he wish that they did.  
Pasteur poked his nose out between the bars and foofled at him. The little white rat hated being ignored. Papa should have taken him out to play today. He gnawed anxiously on the edge of his feeding tray. He could do with some fresh water today. The other man took him out for a stroll on the coffee table while his litter was cleaned and the woman fed him bits of apple and half a walnut. He wanted his papa to skritch his belly, snuggle him inside his sweatshirt and let him curl up blissfully under papa's long black hair.  
"Shut it, you!" was the only response he got. Even that was nearly too much effort for Taisa.  
It was at that point that Hughes began to worry. Taisa could be pissed at the whole freakin' world, but nothing could provoke him to yell at his precious rat. Moreover, Teddy didn't cry often, but the rare times she did Taisa usually beat him to her side, drying her tears, gently coaxing her into confiding what was burdening her heart. Maybe it's 'cos he's 100 stone queer and I'm only half-and-half, he concluded. Damn it, he's the reason we're both sniffling, and the stubborn asshole won't even talk about what the hell went wrong between him and ol' Tin-Limbs. Whatever the fuck went down, I think he's blaming her for it. Boy needs a righteous ass kicking, and so does Edward-Fucking-Elric. Somebody needs to do something…  
Day Four. Other than brief trips to the bathroom, Mustang never left his room now. Wasn't listening to his stereo or his little black and white portable tv, either. Teddy had made his favorite dish, quiche Florentine, and the whole apartment smelled enticingly of bubbling Italian cheeses, smoked turkey and delicately browned pastry. And Hughes even whisked up a batch of his famous chocolate rum mousse. Last time there was a bowl of that frothy decadence in the fridge Cowboy had scarfed down half the dish all by himself. Having blown their monthly budget for food, Teddy and Hughes would be living on Cup Ramen and Golden Grain macaroni and cheese until sometime in May, but if they could coax Roy out of his bedroom and get him to eat, maybe they could talk him out of his decision to move out and leave them both for good—something Mays couldn't bring himself to contemplate.  
Okay, I may be a switch-hitter, but I really love that little bastard. So does Ted. I ain't just lettin' him wallow in self pity and wreck himself because of Edward-Fucking-Elric.  
Beard shaved, hair combed into passable neatness, Hughes cut a dashing figure in the well-tailored suit handed down from his older brother Robert. The desk clerk at Hotel Beau Sky blinked and sat up straighter. "Good afternoon, sir!" he chirped. "Welcome to Beau Sky, my name is Phillip. How can I help you?"  
"Mayland Alexander Hughes. I'm an assistant for Hughes and Grumman, counsel for the Elric family. I'm here to deliver some papers,-here he flashed a carefully folded take out menu from Chow Goldstein's"to Mr. Edward Elric. Is he in this afternoon?"  
Mays, you sly son of a bitch, he congratulated himself, there's nothing that slick bullshit and a pair of tight trousers can't accomplish, is there? Okay…so I have to buy Princess Phillip a drink tonight—this might end up costing me a Mai Tai and a blowjob. Anything to keep the peace on the home front…  
"Room Service!" he called out cheerily after knocking smartly on the door of Suite 20.  
There was a long hesitation before the door cracked open.  
Edward Elric was drunk. Very drunk. "Didn't order anything," he barked. "Fuck off!" He attempted to slam the door in Mayland's face. A rather large foot wedged itself in the doorway.  
"Good morning, Professor Elric!" he beamed. "Mayland Alexander Hughes." He proffered his hand. Elric just stared at him. "I'm sure you'd be delighted to beat the shit out of me, sir! May I come in?"  
…If Amestris and Earth parallel each other, then there is a chance that people on one side of the gate may potentially have a 'twin self' on the other side of the gate. You said that you knew Daddy's doppelganger, the man my brother was named for, and that you saw several other doppelgangers when you crossed over—in fact that you took over the body of your own doppelganger when you went thru the Gateway and met your dad in London...are you hinting that there are some doppelgangers around us now?  
She let herself in. He didn't even open his eyes. She refilled Pasteur's water bottle and added a handful of fresh lab blocks to his food dish.  
Then she crawled into bed beside him, curling herself around his back, her face pressed against the nape of his neck. He was feverish and smelled of sweat, illness and dried semen. The sheet underneath her was suspiciously stained. She pictured Taisa huddled in the dark, pulling at himself desperately while yearning for her uncle, and then crying himself to sleep.  
"Taisa, my baby," she whispered against his heated skin. "I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I…I never thought it…god…if I'd known he'd hurt you…"  
After an eternity, his hand closed over hers. "I'm not angry at you. Not now."  
She turned him gently onto his back, noting how his closed eyes seemed sunken into a face that was unnaturally pale. Brushing his greasy hair back from his forehead, she pressed her lips to his brow, his cheeks and eyelids before she told him she and Hughes were going out for the evening. "I…I know you said you were going…and we can't stop you. I was afraid that you…" Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard and tried again. "Promise you won't go without saying goodbye?" she finally blurted out.  
He nodded, eyes still closed.  
Her lips brushed his mouth. "We love you. We love you so much. Do you believe me?"  
"Yeah."  
As she closed the door softly behind her, she wondered if Uncle Edward didn't love Taisa more…and for a hell of a lot longer.  
By the time Arlo chugged into the parking lot of the Hotel Beau Sky, Edward Elric was sober and had even managed to keep down a ham sandwich and half a pot of coffee. He had shaved, bathed and shampooed his hair and was smartly attired. Even his white doeskin gloves were clean.  
Mayland Hughes met Teddy Elric at the door with a weary grin. She gawped at his black eye as he knew she would. "Could have been worse, darlin he assured her. "If he'd used the other fist it would have gone clean through my head."  
Hugs were exchanged, as were keys. "You okay to drive?" she fretted.  
"I'll get a cab. Wish me luck, Kiddo."  
She grabbed at him before he shot out the door. "Taisa," she pleaded. "is he your Doppelganger?" Edward's nod confirmed her suspicions. "Was he the soldier you lost in—"  
"You found him, Kiddo. And I'm not letting him go. Not this time."  
…..TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

FIFTY TRIPS AROUND THE SUN: CHAPTER 5—"YOUR SONG/"BRING ME TO LIFE"HIGHWAY TO HELL"  
FIFTY TRIPS AROUND THE SUN: CHAPTER 5—"YOUR SONG/"BRING ME TO LIFE"HIGHWAY TO HELL"  
NOW—LOS ANGELES, 2007  
No stop signs, speed limit  
Nobody's gonna slow me down  
Like a wheel, gonna spin it  
Nobody's gonna mess me round  
Hey Satan, payin' my dues…  
I'm on the highway to hell!  
AC/DC—"Highway to Hell"  
Back at Chez Hughes, the ladies finished their last minute packing while Alphonse drove with Mays out to his brother's house outside the city to pick up both Elysia and the deluxe RV Mays was borrowing from his brother Robert, a well-heeled divorce attorney for the Rodeo-Drive-And-Spago set. Robert had the kind of sneer that looked hot on Elvis—and obnoxious on anybody else. Worse than the sneer was his innate ability to crawl under his kid brother's skin and deflate the indefatigable Piledriver Ego. A few hours in the bosom of his family and Mayland Hughes was wont to do Incredibly Stupid Things That Inevitably Led To Disaster…  
…like scrapping his plans for a cross country jaunt with the Elrics in his comfy mini van. One look at his brother's 2007 Gulf-Aire Behemoth Class-A motor home and it seemed as if his personal Piledriver had shrunk to the dimensions of a pocket screwdriver.  
Some ass was kissed. A bargain was struck and duly committed to contract, signed and witnessed. In exchange for his soul, Mayland Alexander Hughes was granted the use of the Behemoth for Two Weeks Only, under the following conditions:  
It was to be returned in pristine condition. No scratches, dents or interior damage.  
It was to be gassed up, cleaned and waxed upon return.  
It was to pass a twenty-seven point inspection by the RV service center, and, worst of all,  
The keys would be handed over ONLY on the condition that Robert's two children, Margot and William, would be handed over as well—and said children must return intact, entertained and in good spirits. For Margot, this entailed being permitted to gorge on junk food, twirl around in glittery high heels and to force every adult within screaming range to play Bratz with her. William's tastes ran to stomping on toads, picking his nose in public and projectile vomiting in any vehicle capable of moving faster than ten miles an hour.  
Now, Mayland Hughes loved his wife and daughter to the point of insanity, and that lapse of reason allowed him to be snookered in by his brother, who was delighted to be shed of his loathsome offspring for a fortnight. Robert also knew that his kid brother had no earthly idea of how to handle the Behemoth, much less how to keep her properly maintained. In short—he was destined to fuck up.  
If things went as badly as Robert hoped, he'd be trading the Behemoth in for a 2008 Juggernaut soon as they rolled off the assembly line…..  
The soles of Trisha Elric's boots cleared the carpet about three and a half inches at the sound of a horn that would have more suitably adorned the QE2. "Fucksake, Grace! What the hell was that?"  
Gracia Hughes shook her head in disgust. "The Piledriver….and he's driving his brother's pile."  
Outside, Teddy took a long look at the sleek charcoal-and-gold chassis of the Gulf-Aire Behemoth. She cut her eyes to her father who avoided her glance with a heroic effort to keep his own laughter under tight rein.  
She stared at her old friend, sheepish and scared shitless and dwarfed behind the wheel. "Whadya think, Ted?"  
"So…" she ventured, "exactly how small is your brother's penis?"  
FLASHBACK—BERKELEY, 1976  
One of them was home now, probably Hughes. Teddy was performing, so she had to go early to set up for the NOW benefit.  
Mustang heard the soft pop-hissss of needle on vinyl before a warm, soulful voice echoed down the hallway, a voice he should have been hearing tonight in San Francisco…  
It's a little bit funny this feeling inside  
I'm not one of those who can easily hide  
I don't have much money but boy if I did  
I'd buy a big house where we both could live…  
The door to his bedroom creaked open but Hughes made no effort to come inside. Probably gearing up to let me have it with both barrels, he though wearily. Fuck it. Just…fuck it. "What do you want?" he mumbled against his pillow.  
"What I want to know, Roy, is if these are the right flavor." That didn't sound like Hughes' flat Yankee bray. This voice was like soft velvet against the back of his neck. Somewhere between low tenor and light baritone. Last time he'd heard his name spoken like that it was in the back seat of a red VW Microbus as a silky tongue, sweet with maple syrup and bitter with black coffee, feathered across his lips before darting into his mouth.  
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do  
My gift is my song and this one's for you  
His eyelids cracked open. The figure in the doorway looked wistful and tired but was smiling gently. One hand held a bottle of Napoleon brandy and a pair of glasses. The other offered a small box of Vitakraft Wildberry Yogurt Drops, Pasteur's favorite treat.  
I hope you don't mind  
I hope you don't mind  
That I put down in words…  
It was brutal. It was glorious.  
His nerves had stretched past the snapping point when he flung Edward to the bed, pearl buttons pinging off the walls as the fine Turnbull and Asser shirt was ripped open in his fierce hunger to taste steel and skin. Fire licked his spine; like fire he consumed the small, strong body that clung to him, bent nearly double, ankles locked around Taisa's shoulders. He growled and gibbered like a madman, chained and starving in the dark for a lifetime as he drove into the older man. God, it hurt…burned…forcing it in like that without the studied preparation Hughes obsessed about, but he'd been driven past the point of caring and so had his lover.  
He had never been inside a partner before, not even Teddy—they never made it quite that far in their one attempt. Once he had breached this cherished body...ohhhh...GOD. Nobody told him how soft, how good it was. How unbelievably tight it would be. I didn't...should have…Mays never took me until I was open and ready for him…but...I need…need you so much…Edward...  
"Roy…"  
His eyes slid open, gazing down at that flushed, perfect face. "I love you," Mustang grated between clenched teeth. "You're mine."  
Edward arched up to meet him, half laughing, half sobbing. "I'm home," he gasped. "Finally…I'm home."  
How wonderful life is  
While you're in the world  
NOW—LOS ANGELES TO MIAMI/ORLANDO AIRPORT(EN ROUTE)  
But still the warmth flows through me  
And I sense you know me well  
I am willing lay your hands on me  
I am ready lay your hands on me  
I believe lay your hands on me, over me  
Over me…  
Peter Gabriel, "Lay Your Hands On Me"  
"Champagne?"  
"Why the hell not?  
A sweaty blonde head lolled drowsily against Taisa's shoulder. It was too warm under the blanket but Edward was in no mood to complain. In fact, he looked as smug as Yao the Psychotic Psiamese had after pooping out the recycled remains of Ed's five hundred dollar koi all over the freshly raked Zen garden, gleefully kicking up the gravel in his wake.  
Two down, Django, Mustang smiled to himself as the Captain of American Airlines Flight 798 to Miami apologized that departure would be delayed another half hour due to a backup on the runway. Seven to go…and we haven't even left the tarmac.  
They had a very interesting six hours ahead of them…  
NORTH AMESTRIS, 1951  
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems…  
Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul  
Don't let me die here…Bring me to life  
Evanescence, "Bring Me to Life"  
The old soldier never said much in the few times he wandered into the village for supplies. Oh, he might stop off in the pub for a drink, but other than the general courtesies, they left him alone. The barkeep poured his brandy, scooped up the sens and tossed the blood-spotted tissues into the fire. Not that what the old man had was catching…but still… Something about those wet, ragged coughing spells made everybody around him avert their faces. Nobody was sorry to see him go.  
"Ah, don't feel sorry for the Colonel," the landlord consoled his wife after she cleared away a plateful of perfectly lovely chicken pie the old soldier had barely touched, even though he'd left a generous tip along with his bill. "Was a hero in the old days and he helped knock that bastard Bradley out of power. Came north for quiet. The old outpost is as quiet as you can get, I reckon."  
"I—I know," she worried, blowing a strand of silvered hair out of her eyes as she scraped the plate clean. "Still, it's not right. Nobody should die alone. Don't he have any family or children?"  
"None as I've heard of. Got some old army buddies that come up on holiday, now and again. And he's kin somehow to President Hawkeye, leastways they grew up together. After she got married she named her youngest boy after him—that's the 'un that went to Xing to study pharmacy."  
"Why don't she send someone up to fetch him back to Central, then, if they're family? Ain't fittin' if she's living it up in the capitol and he's freezing his lungs out up here on the border?"  
Her husband sniffed. "Heard there was a row about it. She sent Armstrong to haul him back and they got into some sharpish words. He called the President from the inn and told her it was a no-go, so she told him to pack up and leave the Colonel be. And that's the end o' it, I 'spect."  
Kennon, the delivery boy, had passed the Colonel on his way in.. "Ask me, he offered, "he's waitin' for something. Always got that searchin' look in his eye."  
The landlord pulled off a pint of new bitter, sipped it critically. "Waitin' for the Valkyrie he is. And I don't reckon he'll have to wait much longer, if you follow me." He grinned at the thought of the Cupbearer of the Gods of North Amestris, the tender Lover of the Valliant who would gather the souls of worthy warriors and carry them home to the Hall of Heroes. "By springtime his bones will be ploughed under and he'll be drinking from the never failin' horn with the Honored and watchin' out for those left behind."  
That's the problem when you have no gods, no creeds. Making room in your soul for the approaching darkness. Knowing your body will dissolve into the earth and when the last living person who knew you forgets your name, all that you suffered and sacrificed for will be gone for good. That's when death really happens.  
That's true, another part of his mind argued as he stamped the snow off his boots, fumbling for his keys with numb fingers. I'm a part of the history books now, along with Fullmetal. There's a boy in Xing—well, not a boy anymore. Riza's boy. Named him after me so the name Roy Mustang won't get lost, since I never had a son of my own. How could I, when all I ever wanted was…  
…was a golden eyed youth, strong of body, swift of mind. A sharp tongue that he wielded with arch sarcasm to keep the rest of the world from touching the tender core of his spirit, that part that sacrificed everything for love of his brother, his country…his Colonel.  
Roy had roughly shoved Alphonse across the gap between the airship and the bridge of stone Alphonse and Edward had formed. "Get going!" he shouted. "Keep him safe! I'll follow as soon as I figure out how to close the Gate on this side.  
The Gateway was closed now, but in closing it there was no way to slip between the worlds. He was stranded, desolate and grieving. There would be, he promised himself, no further disasters like Alphonse's blunder in Liore. No new Gateways to be made, he vowed.  
That was before he found out that when Truth closes a Gateway, sometimes a Window is left open…  
Hohenheim. It couldn't have been anyone else. Ed and Al had learned their lessons about opening doorways between Amestris and Earth.  
The first one was nearly buried in the sands outside of Liore. Armstrong had written to him of the strange spiraling array, a flat disk of stone carved nearly a finger-length's deep.  
Carved on one side only. When Mustang ran his gloved hand over the smooth reverse side, it crackled. Hastily, they reburied it, three times to its original depth.  
There were more. One turned up in the bay of Acroya, buried in silt. It was broken. A third was found under the cobblestones of Dublith. Aside from the mild reaction from the Liore stone, the others remained inert.  
A month or so ago, Armstrong dug up the Liore disc and poked at it. There was a sizzle of energy before it went dark again. The stone was reburied, the President duly informed.  
She was not, however, informed of the stone's mate in the foothills of the Brigs Mountain range, separating Amestris from Drachma. The stone that was no longer opaque but shimmered like green water, etched deeply with a spiral array.  
After years of watching the stone, it sparked, like its mate in Liore.  
It's not a stone anymore, Roy marveled. It's a window.  
On the other side, somebody was talking. Roy drank in every word:  
"Sheska? It's Denny—Hi! Look, you've got to get Mr., Edward on the phone—no shit, this is serious! What? Okay that'll…Mr. Alphonse? Denny Brosh. Listen, about Orlando 5—no, it's worse than Ranamuerte. Damn thing's gone transparent! That's what I tol—no, I haven't. Don't you think—? Oh. Okay. Yeah. My cell. I'm taking a few more pictures, and…no. Can't see through it, but it kinda flickers, like shadows. Must be light on the other side. Can't hear anything, tho'…"  
In his haste to document the phenomena, Denny Brosh never thought to lay his ear against the shimmering disc of stone. If he had, the ragged cries of Colonel Roy Mustang would have brought Edward to the Window.  
Instead, Fullmetal was sending his brother and his student, along with Maes Hughes, one adorable child, two obnoxious ones, a nurse with a yeast infection and, quite possibly, the ghost of a long dead guitar player…  
NOW—ABOARD THE BEHEMOTH  
I wanna… get.. out of… here  
I gotta… get out of here…  
I gotta get out of here!  
Ya GOTTA let me out of here!  
-Alice Cooper, "The Ballad of Dwight Frye"  
"Now I know why some animals eat their young."  
Gracia Evans Hughes dropped her teacup and stared at Alphonse Elric as if he'd lost his mind. Alphonse—lover of kids of all ages. Alphonse-whom Elysia worshipped like a third grandfather. Alphonse—ever patient. Always gentle and soft spoken.  
Twenty four hours aboard the Behemoth and Alphonse Elric was starting to crack. "Alphonse?" she ventured, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you all right? Can I get you anything?"  
"Yes. A swift and painless death. Failing that, help me find my iPod, he moaned, burying his face in his hands.  
"I'm worried about your dad," Gracia confided, making her way towards the cockpit. Teddy was taking a turn at the wheel, since the interstate was a straight shot…and Hughes was seat-belted to the couch nearby, jaw sagging, snoring and babbling in his sleep. "He's starting to sound like his brother."  
"Yeah, I know," Teddy nodded, not taking her eyes off the road. "Ever since it sunk in that we were taking this monstrosity all the way to Orlando—and those devil-spawn kids along with us. I think he was laboring under the delusion that we'd take the short trip to Anaheim, hang out at Disneyland, then ditch the Behemoth and the little bastards and head east."  
Gracia tucked a blanket around her comatose husband, closed his mouth and wiped the slobber off his chin with a fond look. "Honey, that's what I was thinking too. We don't need to have those…two…" she shot a rueful glance over her shoulder towards the entertainment center where Margot and William were slugging each other over who got to use the Playstation, "with us when we take care of your family's business. Mays let himself be railroaded by Robert once again," she sighed.  
Teddy squinted at the mile marker and swallowed a mouthful of Bengal Spice tea. "What's the good word on the Clearblue Easy? Are we in Mommy Mode yet?"  
"Right on schedule," Gracia beamed. "And I'm feeling better already. Not well, but better. Oh, and Mays says he'll hire a sitter service for the kids when we…you know. Thought you and Alphonse will have had enough to deal with."  
"Pet sitter service, you mean," Teddy snorted. "One that specializes in venomous reptiles and pit bulls. Regular baby-wrangler would sue us for mental cruelty and double wages if she got stuck with those monsters."  
Gracia rolled her eyes. "Where's Mary Poppins when we need her?"  
"Fuck Mary Poppins," yelled Alphonse from the rear. "Send for The Exorcist!"  
NOW—ABOARD AMERICAN AIRLINES FLIGHT 798  
"Mmmm…can you believe it? An in-flight movie that didn't suck."  
"Dinner wasn't as horrible as it might have been. I could even identify the entrée."  
"Goddamned faggots!"  
Taisa glanced across the aisle where a portly businessman was mopping his flushed face and scowling at Mustang, leaning back in his seat with Edward snuggled contentedly against his shoulder. "The drunken gentleman from Texas has spoken. Again." He reached for the call button. "I've had enough of this shit," he grumbled. "They can tell him to lay off."  
"Or they can shove him out the airlock," Edward shrugged. He was mellow, decently fed, and had been discreetly fondled until he was bonelessly relaxed. Teddy and Alphonse were safely on the road, and Denny Brosh was monitoring Orlando 5—they'd get an update before changing planes in Miami. "Or whatever. Ignore him, Roy."  
"God-damned-Brokeback-Mountain-fudge-packers!"  
"Edward…this is First Class. And the First Class amenities do not include Gay bashing!" He jabbed the button, a vindictive smirk on his lips. "Where the hell is that-?"  
"Hel-LO, young lovers! So nice to see you boys again!"  
"PAUL?"  
A slim young air host with closely cropped platinum hair offered them a rakish salute and a grin. "Yes, it's me, darlings! I saw your names on the manifest, so I was planning to pop up to First Class and say hello!" He regarded them warmly. "You two were such fun on Narita-LAX! And Mr. Mustang, I thought I would die laughing when you made the potty overflow! Serves those sanctimonious assholes right! Now, what can I do for you boys?"  
"Speaking of sanctimonious assholes," Ed lowered his voice, "who's the jerk with the attitude? He's been calling us 'goddamned faggots' since he got on in Houston."  
"Why, you don't recognize him, Mr. Edward?"  
Ed scowled at Roy. "Do we?" Roy shook his head, mystified.  
"Gentlemen," Paul leaned in to confide to the couple, "you are sharing the First Class cabin with none other than James Busbee McDonald. THE James Busbee McDonald!"  
Ed frowned impatiently. "Yeah? And?"  
"Author of 'Straight and Narrow: An Eight Week Journey to Wellness'?" Mustang and Ed just stared at him. "Darlings, he's a sexual-orientation deprogrammer! Claims he can make you switch from tube steak to tuna if you pay him and his goon squad about twenty thousand bucks. I mean, pul-eeeze! Does he have any idea how many happy faggots there are in this world? It's not like we're competing with him for pussy, for heaven's sake, not that any woman would fuck him without slapping a bag over his head—"  
-a plastic one, preferably," Ed suggested.  
"—and I just know he's got some sort of secret—bet he hung out on the Bear scene. Wonder whose bitch he was before he landed his little book contract? Can't you just picture him in motorcycle chaps and a ball gag?"  
"Paul," Taisa cut in, "please—we just ate!"  
"Goddamned FAGGOTS!"  
"This is going to get me in deep doo-doo, my darlings," Paul grinned maliciously, "but I don't give a damn. Let's teach Miss Texas how OUT numbered she really is in the Friendly Skies!"  
Ed and Roy stared at one another, utterly baffled. "What the hell is he going to do?"  
Kiss today goodbye,  
The sweetness and the sorrow…  
P.A. microphone in hand, Paul was crooning in a surprisingly smooth tenor. From the bulkhead, on the left, a baritone joined in:  
Wish me luck, the same to youuuu-  
But I can't regret  
What I did for love, what I did for love.  
"What the fuck?"  
Mustang smirked at his lover. "Chorus Line, you Philistine!"  
One by one, from First Class to Coach, the men and their lovers began to chime in. Overhead, there was a crackle of static, followed by a baritone and a bass joining in from the cockpit:  
Won't forget, can't regret  
What I did for love-  
What I did for love—  
Paul swung down on one knee before the Elric-Mustangs with a flourish. "What WE did for….LOOOOVVVVEEEEE! Thank you! Thank you very much! And thank you for flying American Airlines. For those of you who will be disembarking at Atlanta Hartsfield Airport, we will be arriving in approximately 45 minutes. For those staying on Flight 798 to its final destination in Miami, we will be performing selections from Mame, The Producers and Annie. Thank you and have a wonderful afternoon!"  
"Well fuck you, then! You're fired!" Edward slammed the phone down in disgust and stomped off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.  
Taisa hit redial. "Denny? It's Mustang. Ignore him. He's got a sharp stick up his ass. He was just hoping for an update on Orlando 5. I'm going to assume no news is good news. I got a voicemail from Teddy—she and Alphonse will be there within a week. Email Sheska and let her know we're all right. And don't worry. I'll handle Ed."  
"Well…weren't you an obnoxious bastard just now." Roy eased himself down on the rim of the bathtub. "What the hell did Denny do to deserve getting canned?"  
Edward punched the button that fired off the Jacuzzi jets, then sank down until the water reached his chin. "All right, all right, damn it! I'll apologize! Get off my ass about it, okay?" he grumbled.  
Mustang dipped his hand below the surface, idly stroking his lover's chest. "Don't scare me like that. Sounded like you were channeling Donald Trump for a moment."  
Edward leaned back into the bubbles and sighed.. "Mmmm…I like that," he muttered as Taisa's fingernails lightly scratched across his nipples. "Sorry. That bullshit on the plane—and to run into that asswipe in the lobby! God, I wanted to leave an automail footprint in his crotch, that pompous—"  
A wet hand covered his mouth. "Edowado," Taisa smirked, "loving well is the best revenge." Fixing his lover with a hungry gaze, Mustang began unbuttoning his shirt. "Wanna get even?"  
In room 569, the INCOMING CALL button flashed red. A sweaty hand snatched at the receiver. "McDonald here." There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. It was broken by a low, guttural moan, then punctuated by a rhythmic slapping sound…  
It was a sound McDonald had heard before. It was sound he had made before.  
"Hnnnnnhhh...god, yes! Awww...fuck, that's so good!"  
"Ahhh...ahhh...harder, damn it!"  
He bit his lip and dug beneath his terrycloth bathrobe. "Who…who is this? What do you want?"  
The sounds on the opposite end of the phone became more primal, the cries more strident. Some it wasn't even in English, for god's sake. Something bumped against the receiver, then the slapping sounds grew faster, the breathing more labored. Finally the grunts and groans became shouts of pleasure…and the slapping ceased.  
McDonald dug in his bag for a dose of nitroglycerine. "Damn," he gasped. "Damn."  
Smirking evilly, Edward Elric hung up the phone. "Amazing what one can do," he snickered, "with a leather jacket, a belt, some hand lotion—"  
"—and a talent for special effects. We should be doing sound tracks for anime. That," Roy grinned, "was great."  
"Yeah." Ed tossed the belt to one side and pulled Roy closer. "Now…let's do it for real…"  
NOW—ORLANDO FIVE PORTAL STONE  
"Hired, fired…fired again, hired again. Can't he make up his mind?" Denny Brosh bit into his calzone and shook his head. Edward Elric wasn't an easy man to work for, but he had resolved he wouldn't leave this job if the old man shoved a rocket up his tail and lit the fuse. A passion for science and an uncle who worked on the SETI project had introduced them when Edward was making one of his increasingly rare visits to NASA. Several years of email correspondence and finally the old geezer sent him airfare to Tokyo to discuss "family business".  
The Thule Group documents were sealed to the general public, but since when had an Elric been part of the general public? Being granted access to copies of the historical documents were what finally convinced Denny that the Elric brothers weren't off their rockers altogether.  
God….the things that were going on during WWII. Thule was only part of the story. Guido von List and his society, the revival of the old Asatru religion, horribly twisted to suit the new gods of the 20th century, all honor stripped from the path of Odinism by the Third Reich. On the other side, Dion Fortune and the British magicians were keeping vigil on Glastonbury hill, invoking the Race Spirit of Albion, calling for Arthur to rise in the hearts of the Britons—surely Churchill was evidence of that? Rudolph Steiner, identifying Hitler as the embodiment of Ahirman, and Hitler's articles in Völkischen Beobachter in the 20's—had Hohenheim and his son read those attacks on Steiner and his philosophies?  
Knowing the danger—and knowing that Hohenheim himself had allied himself with Churchill—how could the famed Alchemist become involved with Dietlinde Eckhart and the plot to open the door to Shamballa? Was he mad? A traitor?  
Or was he just desperate to go home?  
Hohenheim, it was discovered, had made several attempts at creating gateways prior to his affiliation with the Thule group. Not all of those attempts had been unsuccessful. They flickered, but were dangerously unstable. And, unfortunately, problematic to destroy.  
The best compromise, the Elric brothers decided, was vigilance. Keep rotating watch on the little gateways. Keep records. And, most importantly, train up a new generation of alchemy students to monitor—and if need be, intervene, under the guidance of a full-fledged alchemist, personally trained by the brothers, preferable a member of Hohenheim's family.  
Thirty years of training had gone into one of the three eldest Elric children, now a woman in her late 40's. She, in turn, was observing the one of the youngest of the great grandchildren, a promising boy named Edwin Rockbell Elric, who was still junior high. It was too soon to know if young Edwin would be willing to sacrifice his personal ambitions to serve as the 'guard dog', as Teddy referred to herself. Until that decision was made, others would have to help.  
Denny was damned proud to be one of them.  
Alphonse had ordered him to keep watch over Orlando 5 until he arrived with his daughter. Although Teddy was book trained, she had virtually no practical experience with transmutative alchemy. With magic, shamanism, Tantra and Kabballah—yes. Not to mention intensive studies in Asian healing modalities. That kind of information could help—but it wasn't enough. She hadn't so much as transmuted chicken into chicken soup.  
That flickering green light from Orlando 5 was starting to scare the shit out of Denny Brosh. He prayed Alphonse Elric would stay alive long enough to make it to the site. Sending Teddy in, for all her good intentions, was like asking Adam West to fight the Joker in a pair of spandex tights, armed with nothing more lethal than an Actor's Equity card…  
Orlando 5 flickered again. To his horror shadows danced on the surface of the stone. They looked like….  
Hands. Oh, shit. Somebody was clawing on the other side of the Gateway, trying to get through.  
Spitting out his mouthful of pepperoni, he hit the Speed Dial #1.  
"We're sorry. The customer you are trying to reach is out of service area. Please try again later. Thank you"  
….TO BE CONTINUED….

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

NOW…MIAMI AIRPORT HILTON, 5:53 AM NOW…MIAMI AIRPORT HILTON, 5:53 AM  
FROM:  
TO:  
CHANGE IN ITNERARY  
Sheska—  
Change of plans. There's an asshole that needs avoiding. Wiki James Busbee McDonald. Hold your nose when you read it. SOB is here, and gave us shit on the plane. T. and I gave him grief. Found a brochure under the doorway a minute ago. GDMF is heading for same destination as us—got a retreat there, damn it. Same flight as ours, since there aren't many flights to Ranamuerte. X'ling flght—getting new air/land/hotel from . Guaranteed lowest fare, good seats, 5 star accommodations. Update when we get there.  
E.  
FROM:  
TO:  
RE: CHANGE—URGENT!  
Sir—  
Advising against change of sched/accommodations. If you cancel, we can't rebook. PriceQuibbler is a scam operation-this is not like Orbitz or Travelocity. I checked them out when booking you—you wouldn't believe the complaints. Whatever you do, call be before you change anything! Blackberry me ASAP.  
Sheska  
FROM:  
TO:  
Sheska—  
WHO IS THE BOSS HERE, DAMN IT? FOR GOD'S SAKE, GIVE ME SOME FUCKING CREDIT! YOU THINK I'M NOT NET SAVVY ENOUGH TO TELL A SCAM FROM A LEGIT TRAVEL BROKER? SHEEESH. NEW SCHED AND HOTEL—SEE ATTACHED FILE.  
E.  
"Elric residence."  
"Ai-san? This is Sheska."  
"Ahhh. Miss Sheska. Very good to hear from you. You hear from Mr. Alphonse and Mr. Edward?"  
"Mr. Alphonse is fine and so is Miss Teddy, thanks. But Mr. Edward…well….Ai-san, you're a Buddhist, aren't you?"  
"Yes, Miss. All my life."  
"Good. Do me a favor and light some incense, pray a mala or something, because Mr. Edward's…welll…let's just say he and Mr. Mustang are in need of some extra protection, okay?"  
Mr. Mustang was nominally a Buddhist—at least that's what it said on his birth certificate, along with 'father: unknown' and 'race: mixed'. He had a tiny statue of Kwan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, that had once graced his mother's home altar before her death. Fairly certain Mustang-san wouldn't object, Ai-san lit a joss stick and offered it with a trusting heart to the sweet faced Hearer of Cries. "Please, Honorable Mother, keep Edo-san and Mustang-san safe from harm. Watch over Miss Teddy. And," she lit a second joss stick, "keep dear Alphonse from all harm and bring him home safe. Arigato!"  
NORTH AMESTRIS, 1951  
Seems everybody turned up for the roast beef and pudding tonight, and no wonder. Savory aromas from the Briggs Mountain Inn crept out into the night, enticing hungry soldiers and others stopping over on the train to come in and warm themselves with a few pints and a hot dinner and maybe a clean bed for the night. A carload of blue clad infantrymen were joshing and shoving each other along the sidewalk, glad to get off the train, gladder still at the thought of bitter and ale and cider on tap and a few hours to relax before crossing the mountains into Drachma. They were faceless, really, thought Cosine, the landlord's wife, hauling another load of potatoes in from the cellar. "Sirrah, she called to her niece, slapping freshly risen dough into loaves for the brick oven, "you'll want to put a few more pies in. This lot looks to be hungry."  
"Lookit them baby faces, Auntie. Don't look long out o' trainin' camp. Not up in these parts to cause trouble, do you think?"  
"Not with Her Nibs mindin' the country." Cosine had been chuffed when she heard that a woman soldier had been nominated to the highest civil office in Amestris. The fall of Bastard Bradley and the return of a civil government had meant better times for all, for the most part. There was still fence mending and mopping up, and the regime change resulted in a few minor border skirmishes, but all in all the Peace was holding…for the moment. President Hawkeye had routed out a lot of government corruption—even if it meant blowing the kneecaps off one fool who attempted to gun her down at her own swearing in ceremony. The fact that the dignified grandmother of eight had crippled her assailant rather than killed him outright made her a heroine in the eyes of the country. "She said he'd live to limp to a fair trial—and so he did. Bastard Bradley would have gouged out his eyes and handed him over to the Alchemists," Sirrah prattled over her shoulder as she backed through the kitchen doorway to lay hot pasties on the bar.  
"Hissst!" Cosine cautioned. "Watch yer mouth about…them. You never know when he might be in for a nip."  
He was at the bar. "He has excellent hearing, although his eyesight isn't as acute as it might be, all things considered," said the Colonel. Sirrah flushed, then paled when she realized Mustang had heard her. His glass had just been topped up; nevertheless, he pushed it to one side, dug into his pocket to pay the bill, then shouldered on his heavy greatcoat. Rising, he bowed to Sirrah, offering her an ironic smile of apology. "My regrets for offending you. Good evening."  
He was halfway up the block before Cosine caught up with him. "Colonel Mustang—please !"  
He paused. He did not turn around. Cosine quaked a little as she stared up into that impassive face, half-shadowed by the veil of graying hair that fell to his jaw line on the left side, partially covering the large patch that concealed who knew what manner of dreadful scars. She offered him a basket. "Sir…I'm so sorry. I'll speak to her. Shouldn't have run you off from your dinner and drinks."  
"She didn't run me off." His expression didn't warm any more than the flat tone of his voice. "I have…things to attend to. Excuse me."  
Cosine wouldn't budge. "Please, sir…your supper. I'd feel better if you took it with you—if you have to go. You didn't touch the chicken pie I made last week," she scolded.  
One corner of the mouth lifted a fraction, no more, but the voice was a bit kinder. "It was good, but…I wasn't well that evening."  
"And you won't get well if you don't take care of yourself!" Having raised three strapping sons and a lazy husband made her a bit bold, like a fussy mother fretting about a sick child. "Now you just take this bit of dinner with you, and I'll have a quiet talk with my niece. No—I won't hear no for an answer, sir! You have your roast and pudding, and when you come back next time you can just bring the dishes back and I'll fill them up proper again."  
Gaww, but he must have been a stunner when he was young, she thought when he smiled and accepted the basket. Even now, he can set the heart a-patterin'. How'd he live so long 'thout some wench layin' a snare for him? Were I half my age and half my size wouldn't I set my cap after him!  
They intercepted him half way to the outpost. "Colonel Mustang? We have orders to escort you back to the station. One of your superior officers is passing through on route to Drachma. You are requested to accompany us back to town for a meeting immediately. When your meeting is concluded we have orders to see you safely back to your destination, Sir."  
Five children. Eight grandchildren. Untold litters of puppies and a husband who was nearly as accurate a marksman as she was. She's untouched by the years. Completely untouched. He told her so after her secretary, Maria Ross, had filled two plain army mugs with coffee. Not the bitter brew of Central-these beans were rare varietals from the south, and the white stuff in the metal pitcher had actually been acquainted with a cow at some point.  
Madam President Hawkeye smiled slightly. "Perhaps you're wearing that patch over the wrong eye, Roy." She touched the wealth of silver hair, swept neatly into a chignon that looked elegant while conviently keeping out of her way. "Armstrong has kept me posted about the incident in Liore with the array stone."  
Ah. Getting straight down to business—and the one topic he was loathe to discuss. "Alex has briefed you. Good. There's nothing I can add, really. You've seen the photographs?  
Riza nodded. "A one-way gate. He says he can't manage to deactivate the disk, but has taken pains to relocate it where it can't be easily detected or accessed."  
"The matter is closed, I think." His lone eye avoided hers.  
"The matter in Liore is closed." She nodded. He waited, not lifting his gaze from the fragrant plume of steam rising from the cup he was now too queasy to taste. "The matter of Briggs Mountain is open. And I think, old friend, that you have not been fully honest with me. Am I correct?"  
Later, his hands shook as he measured out his nightly dose of the vile syrup meant to quell the coughing spells that threatened to strangle him in his sleep. Grimacing, he chased it with a quick pull from the full bottle of brandy Cosine had tucked into his dinner basket. Hurriedly he stuffed what personal items he could not replace into his battered leather rucksack. Everything else he needed for survival was already waiting for him at the cave. Locking the door behind him, he sniffed the air. Ozone levels on the rise. Snow. Enough to cover any tracks.  
He had rigged a rough travois from green saplings and some worn blankets and cargo netting. Armstrong could have shouldered the burden—and the Colonel—effortlessly on his own. As it was, it would take Mustang nearly three hours on foot to the site, provided he wasn't intercepted again. Perhaps the brandy would keep his blood warm enough to make the trek without rest. If he stopped, he'd relax. If he relaxed, the coughing might start up again as it always did when he tried to sleep. And it would be hard to disguise the sharp tang of fresh blood on the night wind should Riza send her dogs to hunt for him.  
"Permission to engage pursuit, Ma'am?"  
"Absolutely not. The very idea. Leave the Colonel be." Madame President Hawkeye made a sharp gesture when Ross moved to refill her mug. "Thank you, Maria. Take it away. No, gentlemen—Mustang is not our quarry. And provided the stone in Briggs Mountain is inactive on this side, we have little to be concerned about it. Armstrong will be arriving in a week to retrieve the Briggs array and transport it to safety. No, my real concern," she sighed, "is whether the Elric brothers will attempt to use this as a gateway home. If so…the consequences will be dire. For one of them, at least."  
"Madame?"  
"Thousands of lives lost in Central. Untold injuries. Devastation in all sectors of the city. All because a thirteen year old alchemist wanted to bring his older brother home." She rubbed irritably at her temples, as if the memory of that day still pained her.  
Yes, it had been decades since the Earth magicians opened the portal in Liore—but it was the younger brother of the Fullmetal Alchemist who transformed the underground array in Central into a permanent gateway through human transmutation, using the homunculus Wrath as his sacrifice. The combined efforts of nearly a hundred State Alchemists had scarcely been enough to finally destroy that deadly passageway between the worlds. "Alphonse Elric," she sighed heavily, "has a great deal to answer for. It would be in his best interest to remain on the other side of the Gateway."  
"And you're hoping Mustang will persuade him?" the aide pressed. "You are aware of Mustang's…liaisons…with Fullmetal?"  
The President nodded wryly. "I've been aware since before they were aware. I suspect Roy is hoping to make contact with Edward. I have no objections to Fullmetal returning to Amestris, and if he and Flame can find some measure of happiness, they are welcome to it. But she emphasized,—should Alphonse Elric return with his brother it will be my painful responsibility to have him arrested and brought before the War Crimes Tribunal. We made no exceptions for Bradley and those who supported his regime. We can make none for Alphonse, regardless of our personal regard for him. And," she shook her head regretfully, "I have no guarantee that the Tribunal would support a vote of clemency."  
"E-excuse me, Madam President. I'll be right back with your supper." Maria Ross saluted, backing out into the train's corridor and closing the door firmly behind her. Nodding to the guards, she headed down a few compartments to the women's washroom. She stepped inside, bolted the door shut and turned on the water as hard as it would go so that nobody would hear her sobbing, her fists clenched tightly against her mouth.  
Thirty years gone…and she still wanted to protect those boys.  
NOW—KOA KAMPGROUND, EL PASO, TEXAS  
Aboard the Behemoth  
"Ouch! Gently, there!" Alphonse Elric grimaced as his youngest child probed at another knotted up muscle, this one just under his left shoulder blade.  
Teddy redoubled her efforts, digging in with her knuckles. "Breathe into it….relax…easy now." Alphonse hissed with pain and shook his head. "Sorry, Daddy. Let me get some Zeng Gu Shui into that spot—or do you want the Tiger Balm?"  
"Tiger Balm would stink up the bus. Got one of those heat patches left?"  
She sighed. "I need to pick a few up at CVS. The last one's on my sciatic nerve. My hip hurts like a sonuvabitch." She stopped kneading and started rubbing gently. "We're a mess. The Elric family chi is seriously out of alignment. Reiki?"  
Alphonse hoisted himself onto the top of the picnic table and stretched out. "Good height for you?"  
"Mmmmhmm." Uttering a soft, reverent prayer in Japanese, Teddy bowed in gratitude to Usui Sensei and her line of masters—including her own father, who had trained Teddy in the healing technique in her twenties. She laid her hands lightly over the top of his skull, hands parallel, allowing her mind to become quiet. This was as much for her as it was for Alphonse. The ki began to flow gently between them. Teddy had a theory that love and trust made it easier for the energy to reach its destination. Alphonse mentally repeated a Sanskrit mantra he learned from Ram Dass. Teddy calmed herself by softly humming a Sufi lullaby she'd learned from the Dances of Universal Peace.  
At the end, she sat down at the table, holding her father's hand to her cheek. As he had told her long ago, silence was the best language between loving hearts. Words were useless, really, when she tried to describe how dearly she loved this man, and how deeply grateful she was to this shy, gentle giant who had always been an endless source of unconditional love from the hour of her birth.  
Which was why she was ready to disembowel Ill Will and The Maggot for stressing Alphonse so much with their screaming, their tantrums and endless demands and the way they taunted him so cruelly. "Old Booger," they chanted, "Old Booger!"  
This was to say nothing of what this was doing to poor little Elysia. She'd burrow her face in Alphonse's shoulder and sob that she didn't want Mommy and Daddy to be mad, but Will and Margot were just plain mean doo-doo heads! Will and Margot were with the KOA Happy Kampers Day Camp counselors, while Elysia was spending some giggly private family time with Mays and Gracia in the pool. "Mischief," Alphonse said softly, "what can we do? This simply isn't working out. I think we need to make some reservations when we get to Houston. We can fly on to Orlando, have Denny meet us and we'll take care of the Gateway. I'm so sorry—I know how much you love your 'family'. But," he squeezed her hand, "this is more than a vacation. I know you know that. We have to do what we came for."  
She nodded slowly. "Tonight. We'll talk to them when the kids have sacked out."  
They stopped by the pool to check on the Hughes family before heading to the Kamper's Kafe for grilled chicken wraps and iced tea, Southern style. Feeling nostalgic, Teddy ordered two strawberry ice cream cones and lightly touched hers to her father's. "Here's to Edo and Taisa, living up in Paradise!"  
"We hope," Alphonse qualified. After all, with Ed's history of mayhem and chaos dogging his footsteps, one would be foolish indeed to assume that all would go as planned…  
"Hey, you two! Wait up!"  
Alphonse and Teddy turned to see the Hughes trio waving wildly at them. "Hey, munchkin," grinned Teddy, hugging Elysia, whose nose was purple with sun block. "Want the last bite of my ice cream cone?"  
"Yeah!" As the little girl munched rapturously, she grinned at her friends. "The Gruesome Twosome are still at Happy Kampers," she mentioned with a sly grin. "We'll put a movie on up in the front if you two want to take a shower together. Elysia hasn't seen Kiki's Delivery Service, has she?"  
"You're a true friend," chuckled Gracia, casting hot eyes in the direction of her husband. "If it's a girl, we'll have to name her Teddy. If it's a boy—what was that sound?"  
The ear-splitting klaxon of the Behemoth went HA-ROOOOOOOGAHHHH HA-ROOOOOOGAAAAAAAA!, making them jump half out of their wet towels. "What the fuck was that?" yelled Hughes, chucking his armload of swim noodles and sprinting up the path.  
"Alphonse—stay with Elysia! Teddy, let's go!"  
Margot the Maggot was behind the wheel of the Behemoth. That, in itself was a hideous news flash that took a moment to sink in, like the shockwave of a nuclear detonation. She was kicking her heels, beating on the horn and singing, her pigtails swinging in time with the music…  
i don't care what they say-yayyy  
i don't care what they doooo—  
cuz they all fade awayyy  
when it's just me and youuuu…  
"Margot! Honey, get away from that wheel right now!" Gracia shouted. "Right now, do you hear me?"  
She batted her pink-glitter eyelids and preened like a celebrity on the red carpet. "I'm not Margot! I'm Rock Angelz Yasmin!"  
KA-tWANNNNGGGGGGGGG!  
Teddy's head spun faster than Linda Blair's in The Exorcist, just in time to see William jumping up and down on the day bed, furiously flailing at the strings of her precious Ovation Adamas 12 string guitar. "She's Rock Angelz Yasmin, an' I'm Rawk Star Naruto! Yeaaaaahhhhhhh!"  
"You're DEAD, that's what you are!" Teddy screamed. "C'mere, ya little shit!"  
Leaping off the daybed, William swung the Adamas by the neck, aiming for Teddy's head. "I'll El-KaBONG you, like Quick Draw McGraw!" he shouted back.  
"NOOOOOOO!"  
"KaBONGGGG! KaBONNNNGGG!" he taunted as he raced up the aisle to the rear of the van.  
Gracia grabbed at Teddy's shirt. "Teddy, he's a child! Don't hurt him!"  
"Hurt him? Hell no I'm not gonna hurt him," she shot back. "You're husband is gonna blister his butt and I'm gonna take pictures!" There was a sickening crash against the back door. "COME BACK HERE, YOU MONSTER!"  
Terrified that Teddy might actually harm her nephew, Gracia ran to the back of the Behemoth, dragging 'Rock Angelz Yasmin' by the hem of her Bratz t-shirt. They were halfway through the dining area when the floor beneath them shifted sickeningly.  
Margot the Maggot had found the horn, the wipers and the climate control button.  
She had also found the release for the parking brakes…  
As he dashed up the path, Hughes had dropped his glasses. By the time he found them again and adjusted the on the bridge of his nose he was able to clearly identify his brother's Class A Gulf-Aire Behemoth as it rolled gently down a sandy slope, through a clump of bushes and over a Coleman dome tent. The tent's owner, who had just parked his Harley behind it, had his helmet half off.  
He never saw what knocked him to the ground and flattened his Hog into a pork sausage patty.  
At the nauseating crunch of steel Gracia and Teddy staggered to the cockpit, slammed on the brakes, yanked the emergency brake for good measure and ran outside to see what happened.  
The rider was spread-eagled, halfway under the bumper. "Oh no!" Gracia gasped. "Teddy! Get the first aid kit!"  
By the time Teddy came back the rider was sitting up, struggling to get his helmet off and cursing a blue streak—actually, cursing a bleu streak, in vile, descriptive Cajun patois.  
"Nom de dieu de bordel de merde!" (rough translation'Goddamn-fucking-shit-almighty!')  
"Are you all right?" Gracia asked anxiously.  
"If he can cuss like that," Teddy whistled, "he's fine. Hey!" she knelt down beside the biker. "Arrète de parler, merdre de tête!"Shut up, shit-for-brains! She wants to know if you're hurt! She's a nurse!"  
The helmet was finally chucked to one side, revealing a shock of shaggy blond hair, wide blue eyes…and a carrot, half broken and dangling out of one side of the rider's mouth. "Eh? Mesdames….pardonez-moi…but what the fuck just hit me?"  
Gracia opened the first aid kit and pulled out her stethoscope. "I'm a nurse. Lie still and let me check you. I'm Gracia Hughes…and what hit you was my brother-in-law's Behemoth."  
He paled noticeably when he saw the mass of steel towering over him. "Baise-moi!" he whispered, crossing himself.  
Then he noticed the curvy brunette beside the pretty nurse. "I guess it killed me, then, eh? Bonjour, ma petit-ange. Come to take me to the Blessed Mother?"  
"Hardly," Teddy grinned, offering her hand. "Teddy Elric."  
"Havoc," he answered with a lopsided grin. "Jean-Remy Havoc."  
NOW—TRANS-CARRIBE FLT 99,  
NON STOP TO PORT NORMAN, RANAMUERTE  
"Ed?"  
"Huh?"  
"Notice anything unusual about this flight?"  
A metal finger tugged the rimless reading glasses low along the sharpish nose. "Not at all." Something in those keen gold eyes was warning Mustang to drop the subject. As usual, Taisa fired ahead anyway.  
"We were loaded from the freight platform."  
Silence.  
"We had to sign a waiver before boarding."  
No answer.  
"The pervasive stench of vomit and cattle when we boarded—and the plane is empty, Ed. I've never heard of this air carrier. We had perfectly good seats on Air Jamaica—"  
-and so did that asshole McDonald. Same flight, Taisa. You were the one bitching about being called a 'goddamn fudge-packing faggot' yesterday. So I got up at o'fuckin'shit o'clock, got online and found us a new flight and new digs." A blonde eyebrow hoisted a fraction as his lover smirked. "This is the point in the story where you say, 'thank you, Edward, for trying to keep me happy'," he prompted. He glanced around the first class compartment. "And we're not the only people on this flight, or hadn't you noticed?"  
Edward and Taisa had been the first aboard from the tarmac; however a scanty handful of business travelers had come up the back steps into the Coach sections. Peering down the aisle Taisa counted ten—no, make that about seventeen—Caucasians, sweaty in their suits. Furthitively , a few of them met his eyes and smiled. Nervously.  
"Anyway," Ed continued, "It's only—what—a three hour flight to Ranamuerte? Quit whining. Deal with it. We'll be drinking 151 rum on the beach before dinner."  
"Speaking of dinner—we left before breakfast and I'm starving. We do get meal service on this flight, right?"  
Edward looked annoyed. "Jeeeeze, to you have to gripe about everything? Such a fuckin' baby. Boo-hoo, Mustang's missed his breakky. Hell, when Al and I crossed the desert to Liore and met that crazy bastard Cornello, I hadn't eaten since—"  
"Damn you!" The onyx eyes began to snap with real annoyance. "Don't start that Fullmetal Asshole shit with me, Edward! I'm not in the mood."  
The argument would have escalated had they not been interrupted by the air hostess. "Any problems, gentlemen?" she asked, cracking her knuckles for emphasis. The name on her tag read "MONA", and soon as Ed glared up…and up…into her fierce gray eyes he amended his personal definition of the word 'broad'. Fucksake—did Armstrong come back as a woman?  
Edward and Taisa clutched each other for support. "Fine and dandy, ma'am," Taisa managed. "And is there any chance of getting a cup of coffee and some breakfast?" He flashed that patented Mustang smile, the one that stunned FMA fangirls in their tracks halfway across a crowded convention hall. The smile that convinced Edward, beyond any doubt, that his lover from Amestris had taken birth as the half-breed bastard son of a Japanese nurse and a wacko ex-patriate flyer who left the RAF at the close of the war, purchased a second hand P-51 Mustang off a rum runner in Kokura and swore he was related by blood to a famous TV cowboy. The smile that ignited his pulse the moment Edward saw him with Teddy at the airport that spring morning in 1976.  
"MONA", apparently, had already been vaccinated against charming Eurasian men with long black hair and sultry eyes. "Coffee…" she repeated slowly.  
"Er, yes."  
"You…want…coffee…"  
Taisa nodded. "With sugar—and creamer. Please."  
"He…wants coffee…." She jerked her head in the direction of the cockpit, separated from the First Class bulkhead by what appeared to be a vinyl shower curtain with the Days Inn logo stamped discreetly all over it. "Captain!" she barked, "we have a passenger requesting coffee on this flight."  
"Roger that!" There was a click and a hiss as the overhead PA snapped on. "Ladies and-uhhh—Gentlemen! Beverage service will be served shortly. Options will be Postum, bottled water, Rooiboos tea and guava juice, available for 4 USD. In addition, roasted peas and squid chips may be purchased at this time for 2.50 USD."  
Mustang began to look concerned. It was 9:00am EST and the caffeine levels in his bloodstream were starting to fall. "Fine," he nodded, "but we want coffee. Two coffees. One black with sugar, one with sugar and creamer."  
"In accordance with recent legislation passed by the Ranamuerte Assembly and the current trade embargo with neighboring island nations, coffee products are no longer offered on our flights. Thank you."  
"No…coffee?" Mustang paled.  
"MONA" shook her head. "Not since we declared war on Jamaica," she boomed.  
Family peace was kept by the discovery of Taisa's emergency Pocky stash in his carry on. The businessmen in Coach were munching disconsolately on squid chips, which were not complimented by the odd tasting Rooiboos or the watery Postum grain coffee. "All right," Ed owned up, "maybe this isn't exactly the Concorde, but at least we're not sharing First Class with McDonald. And since we've got—lessee—two more hours before we land…want to assist me again with my…limb?"  
Making sure that "MONA" was abusing the passengers in Coach, they snuck into the First Class bathroom.  
Abruptly, they snuck out and returned to their seats. "Ever see that movie Trainspotting? Remember the scene in the restroom?"  
Edward shoved a couple of Altoids in his mouth to quell the nausea. "Now we know where they filmed it."  
The four hour van ride to their resort was equally enjoyable. No A/C. No seat cushions to speak of. No brakes—the driver simply laid down the horn and swerved until Taisa was hanging half way out the window, retching up Pocky all over the side of the bus. "Caffeine withdrawal," he moaned. "I feel like shit!"  
"Hey, mon!" It was the pretty cocoa-skinned tour guide in fatigue pants and a muscle tee. "Your friend is pretty sick. What's wrong with him?"  
"Not friend," Ed qualified, "he's my lover—and he hasn't had coffee in almost 24 hours. Fuckin' wuss," he added, rolling his eyes.  
Paninya scooted into the vacant seat in front of them and put her finger to her lips. "Mon, there's two things you'd best not talk about when you get to Hope Springs resort. One—"  
"—is coffee. I know," Ed grumbled. "You're at war with Jamaica—and your accent sounds like"  
"Kansas." She winked at him. "I'm really from Ocho Rios, but I get my ass deported if it gets around—and this is a pretty island. Politics just crazy right now, you know?" Ed nodded. "The other thing you better watch out for is being cowboys. I mean, I think love is love, mon, you know? But we under new management. So you watch it. You a good lookin' older mon, and I bet your boyfriend is cute when he's not puking. Don't want nobody to mess wit'cha. Anyhow, you get in trouble, you call Paninya. We get it sorted out. All right?"  
Ed grinned. "All right!"  
"Irie!" She dug in her pocket and produced a hard brown object. "Kola nut," she offered. "Tastes kinda bitter, but it'll stop that headache. We been smugglin' them in from West Africa since we ran outta coffee. Might make him a little jumpy, but I think you know how to handle him, right? And here's an extra for you, with your pretty eyes."  
(from )  
FIVE STAR ACCOMODATIONS-REPUBLIC OF RANAMUERTE  
Hope Springs Resort, Rio Putana peninsula, Ranamuerte  
Intimate 55-room resort in lush tropic setting on the leeward coast  
All queen beds, non-smoking available by request. In room refrig,  
Hairdryers, color tv, ceiling fans. Continental Breakfast provided  
in lobby. Jacuzzi and beach access, clothes optional area provided.  
Free airport shuttle. Local areas of interest include the D'oro Ojo caverns and  
Le Musee' de Grenouille Dangereux, where interested tourists can interact  
with live specimens of the famed toxic tree frogs and sea toads for which the  
island got its name. Popular venue for retreats and seminars. Rates upon request, reservations non refundable. UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT.  
"WELCUM CON ENTIO EERS! NJOY YR STA !"  
Edward jerked his head towards the banner hung over the checkout desk. "Spell-Check not working?" he smirked.  
"Sorry, mon!" Paninya, it seemed, was doubling as check in clerk. "Big ass storm blew through here last night. Lotta water. Sign blew down. Get it fixed when I get around to it."  
Mustang, buzzed and a little too alert, was staring fixedly at a brilliant blotch of purple, yellow and red stuck on the side of the ice machine. Upon closer examination, it appeared to be some sort of amphibian. "Now, I tried to get you in a quiet place, Boss, but with the convention boys bookin' early, I had to squeeze you in-HEY, MON! Don't touch that!"  
"A frog," Taisa marveled as if he'd just discovered the Holy Grail. "It's a frog, Edo. It's colorful. I like the colors. I like them a lot. Yes! Fascinating frog, Miss Paninya-is it—"  
Ducking under the counter, Paninya snatched at Mustang's hand before he could touch the creature. "Back off!" she warned. "Thing can kill your ass. Toxic to touch, mon. Mr. Boss Man dress in widow's weeds you mess with a rana muerte. How much of that kola nut did you eat?"  
Ed shoved Roy through the door of their room and slammed it shut behind them. Roy sprawled on the bed and giggled, becoming absolutely engrossed by the patterns on the threadbare chenille bedspread. "Look. It's hand painted. They think of everything here," he gushed.  
Ed examined the bed and drew back with a shudder. "Those are stains, asshole. Jeeze, didja have to eat the whole damn kola nut? I just nibbled on mine and I'm fine. Relatively, I think. Anyway, it must be your blood sugar. We need to get you something to eat."  
Mustang stroked the pillow invitingly. "I know what I wanna eat," he purred. "C'mere, Boifurendo. Iku ze!"  
Edward was starting to get alarmed. "Your blood sugar's down the tubes, Roy. You need serious protein."  
Roy reached up, snagged his belt and tried to pull Edward to the bed. Fear of communicable disease transmitted by hotel bedding made him pull back. "You've got all the protein I need," he leered. "You don't want me to black out, do you?"  
Five curried goat sandwiches ,a quart of orange juice and a blowjob later, Roy was snoozing peacefully as his glucose levels neared normal. Edward, apparently made of sterner stuff, polished off a goat curry pasty, licked the crumbs from his fingers and wished he'd ordered seconds. At least there was a fridge in the room, even if it didn't look like it would hold a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and a large box of fries.  
First thing after breakfast, we get some provisions, hire a jeep and have a look at the Ranamuerte Gateway. Blip on the radar, if you compare it to Munich or Orlando 5. Nothing that's going to freak Taisa out—or convince him that all the stories of Amestris are real. Thirty years together, he sighed, slinging his vest over the bedside table, and he still doubts it. He hasn't seen what we've seen—what Alfons and Noa saw first hand. Teddy believes without seeing—but she's Elric by blood, not by marriage—  
Marriage? Huh. Most marriages didn't last as long has his relationship with Mustang. But yeah. For all intents and purposes, he's my husband, stubborn jerk! Wish I could make him understand about what Al and I left to come to this world…  
Stripping down to his boxers, he curled up against Taisa's side. Fuckin' idiot, he grumbled inwardly. Why the hell I've put up with you for all these years…  
Roy stirred, turned over and pulled Edward to his chest. "Mine," he murmured possessively into the silky blond tangles. He wasn't even awake.  
Oh. Yeah. That's why. Edward Elric drifted off to sleep in his lover's arms, lulled by the steady plop…plop…plop of small poisonous frogs, launching themselves out of the trees to splat against their hotel window…  
…..TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

NOW—Ranamuerte Island NOW—Ranamuerte Island  
"Ed?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Before we take that zip-line orientation course—maybe you want to take a look at this."  
Edward Elric flipped the brochure open to the page Mustang had indicated:  
The most famous legend of Ranamuerte was of Ojo D'oro (Eyes-of-Gold) whom the famed caverns are named. He was a Brujo—a sorcerer—and he claimed to have been born of a land 'from the other side of the sky'.  
"What the fuck?" spluttered Edward. "Is this supposed to be Dad?"  
"Read on," said Mustang. "If there's any truth to it, then your father was more than just a so-called Alchemist."  
Edward growled at the jibe about alchemy, but read on:  
Rune stones carved by his hand have been found in the sea caves of Ranamuerte; however most historians agree that his most lasting contribution to our culture was the practice of orally ingesting the extracted milky venom excreted from the large paired glands situated at the back of the neck of the Bufo Marinus-the giant Marine Toad, also known as the Cane Toad. Averaging over 15" and known to be aggressive and carnivorous, Bufo Marinus venom contains over 100 pharmacologically active agents including catecholamines, epinephrine, norepinephrine, dopamine, serotonin, bufotenine, bufagenins, and bufotoxins. Ingesting the venom is a practice known as 'Toad Licking' .  
Edward couldn't believe what he was reading. "Hey, Taisa—remember that teacup poodle that was yapping around the lobby when we checked in? Or were you too fucked up on kola nuts to notice?"  
"The one dyed Pepto-Bismol pink?"  
"Yeah. Anyway, when I went down to get the schedule for the zip-line orientation, there was a hell of a row over that damned dog. It got eaten last night."  
Mustang stared at his lover. "Eaten? By what—the bellboy?"  
"No, asshole—by a freakin' Cane Toad! Lady three doors down from us heard this loud sort of farting noise coming from the bathroom—she though her husband was in there with a lethal case of the shits, who knows? But he was asleep beside her, so she goes to the bathroom, looks behind the shower curtain and finds this huge assed toad with a rhinestone-studded leash hangin' out of it's mouth…and the dog was nowhere to be found!"  
A sly, evil smirk danced across his lover's face. "Keep reading, Edward."  
The current tensions between Ranamuerte and Jamaica arose when Jamaican authories called for strict sanctions against the exporting of Cane Toads for 'recreational and medicinal use'. The Ranamuerte Assembly responded that if 'they will give up the Ganja, we'll give up Toad" The Ranamuertians argued that their own native shamanic tradition, founded on the teachings of Eyes-Of-Gold, uses Toad Licking to shift between the worlds…and to get really high and horny, something that Eyes-Of-Gold thought was a 'damned good idea'.  
"Long story short, Edward, your daddy had a lot of fun…frenching the prince."  
"Hey!"  
"Kissing Kermit, maybe? Labial Lily-Padding?"  
"Goddamit it, Taisa—"  
Mustang was enjoying this far too much to stop. "You could say he liked to go to the hop. Or maybe he made the Ranamuertians pay to gain this sacred knowledge—that means your father Hoenheim was—"  
Edward slammed his hands over his ears. "Don't—don't say it!"  
"—a prostiTOAD! Bwahhahaaahaaaa!"  
"You," Edward pronounced solemnly, "are an evil fuck, Mustang. And if you ever eat kola nuts again I will beat the shit out of you. C'mon. Orientation is in Meeting Room 201. Let's go."  
ZIP LINE ORIENTATION CLASS (1 hr, Meeting Room 201). Required for all tourists prior to using Ranamuerte zip lines for touring jungle canopy and treking to high elevation sea cave sites. Basic introduction to riding zip lines, adjusting body harness, checking gear, glove and hand breaking. Zip line trekers are advised to wear sturdy footwear, heavy gloves (provided), long trousers for leg protection, sport cords for eyeglasses. Hair should be tied back to keep it free from zip line wheel assembly. After class, stop by the front desk to pick up harnesses, carabiners, gloves and maps. Have fun!  
"Well, this sucks!" Edward bitched after twenty minutes of ass-numbing boredom, waiting for the instructor to show. It was clammy inside, and the pervading stench of Caribbean mildew was making his nose itch. "Let's get this shit over with so we can get out to lines. According to Alphonse, we ride the zip lines through the canopy until the main line ends at the cliffs. Then we take the trail to the left—"  
"—the one labled 'DANGER—Hazardous area—beware of falling rocks—"  
"—that's the one, right. He says the Ranamuerte Gateway is located through a narrow cleft off the southeast face. He left a sign reading 'Tresspassers Will Not Make It Out Of Here Alive'. Fuckin' brilliant, little brother." He rolled his eyes in disgust. "Ever ridden a zip line before?"  
Taisa shook his head. "I saw it in a movie with Sean Connery—Medicine Man, I think. He and the female lead put on these harnesses, climbed up into the treetops, hooked on to the cable and pulley and glided around on the cable through the jungle canopy. Looked fun, to tell the truth. And Alphonse has done this every time he's checked this array?"  
Ed snorted. "Yeah. Swinging through the jungle in a pair of Speedos and his Air Jordans. He's kinda notorious in these parts. That's why he's going to Orlando 5 with Teddy, so if something is up around here, we can handle it without a lot of bullshit. Now," he searched around irritably, "where the hell is our instructor? Everybody's here."  
Taisa looked uneasy. "Yeah…and you notice something? We're the only ones dressed for the trek. What's with the suits and ties?"  
"Beats the fuck out of me!"  
"GENTLEMEN! Welcome! We're delighted to have you in class this morning!" boomed through the dusty speakers in the corners of the room. "Please be seated! Our seminar leader will begin shortly. Please remember, no eating, drinking or flash photography during the seminar. Owing to the nature of today's class, no one will be allowed to enter or exit the meeting room until class is over. Thank you for your cooperation!"  
"Taking it a bit far, are they?" Mustang leaned in to whisper to his lover.  
Edward shrugged. "Don't want anybody up on the lines who doesn't know what the hell they're doing . Anyway, can't you sit still for an hour? Or do you need to go potty?"  
Mustang was about to fire off a few more shots about Ed's father being a toad fancier when the lights blinked out, save for a single spotlight over the podium in front of them. "Shhhhh! This should be interesting," he hissed. Edward nodded, agreeing for once.  
The speakers crackled into life again, this time with a swell of patriotic music. A narration began in a voice that sounded like it was dipped in moonlight and molasses and strained through Robert E. Lee's undershorts…  
"FREEDOM! One of our most CHERISHED VALUES in the FREE WORLD. Freedom to live! Freedom to work! Freedom to choose our own destiny….and most importantly, FREEDOM….to CHANGE!"  
Edward Elric and Taisa Mustang exchanged horrified looks, jaws dropping in unison. "Wha-what the FUCK?"  
"GENTLEMEN! Your time is NOW. You have the POWER, to make the change! To break free from the old destructive habits, to choose a new way of LIVING AND LOVING! And now-Hope Springs Resort proudly presents, "STRAIGHT AND NARROW: A JOURNEY INTO WELLNESS, with your Seminar Leader, JAMES BUSBEE MCDONALD!"  
The automail hand griping the arm of Edward's chair flexed of its own accord.  
The chair arm snapped off.  
The oldest surviving descendant of Hoenheim of Light, revered on the island as Eyes-of-Gold, instinctively clapped the palms of his gloved hands together.  
Taisa Roy Mustang may not have believed in alchemy, but he believed without question that his lover was a wonderful man with an exceedingly foul and vindictive temper when riled up…and Edward was riled up. Oh fuck, yes. Taisa inched his chair back slightly to avoid getting hit by the shrapnel when his Edowado gave James Busbee McDonald the automail ass-whuppin' of a lifetime….  
…only it didn't happen…  
One hour stretched into two…then three. On and on and on, Busbee McDonald ranted. He sweated. He testified. Dropping down on one knee, he sobbed as he confessed to the myriad sins of sodomy, felatio, frottage, masturbation and analingus. "Mah wife…" he wailed, tugging at his tie. "Oh…GAWD! Mah pore darlin' Beverly! Cain't yew IMAGINE how it must've PAINED that GOOD WOMAN! Knowin' she was lyin' in bed…next to a SODDOMITE! Do you KNOW what was goin' threw MAH mind, brothers? Do yew?"  
A voice rang out from the darkness. "Yeah. The 800 number for the Jerry Springer Show. That's the American Idol for trailer trash freaks like you, asshole!"  
McDonald licked his lips and blinked at the crowd of silent men, sweating in the darkness beyond his spotlight. "She…she wuz…lyin' in her marriage bed…next to a SODDOMITE! C-can yew BELIEVE what that must have been like?"  
A second voice, this one low and sensual. "It's great, actually. Unless he's had broccoli, in which case it's worse than that scene in Blazing Saddles."  
"Hey!" the first voice shot back. "I had to share a bed with you when you were so whacked out on kola nuts you'd have fucked Elenore Roosevelt if she'd worn a jockstrap."  
"—oohhh, that's so goddamned funny, coming from a man who gets his rocks off giving blowjobs in airplane toilets." That purring, sexy voice again. "Ordinarily it's impossibly to get two adult men into a First Class bathroom…but when one of them is—"  
-don't say it!" the first voice threatened. "Damn you, don't—"  
"—so bean sized that in Tokyo they call him Edo-MAME—"  
-Mustang! I'll fucking kill you, I swear—"  
"—all I had to do was hide him in my pocket and nobody knew I snuck him in," Taisa finished triumphantly.  
"HAH!" Ed lashed back. "If I'm so goddamned little, then it's a good thing you've got such a tiny—"  
Now it was getting ugly.-if I'm so tiny, why do you always walk around bowlegged the morning after, like somebody rammed a freight train up your ass?"  
Edward was drawing in a breath for the next volley when McDonald cut them both off. "YOU! Those voices….you were the ones on the plane!"  
Edward stood up and addressed the audience. "Lights, please?" Like Linus in the Christmas pagent, the spotlight shifted from the sweaty faced James Busbee McDonald to a cocky, grinning Edward Elric, one hundred and two years young and looking indisputably hot with his tight fitting jeans, thick blond pony tail and molten gold eyes that surveyed his quarry with undiguised amusement. "All right, listen up, people. You've just spent a small fortune to listen to this wanker piss and moan about how guilty he feels about cheating on his wife, paying some two-bit street hustler to ream him up the ass and trying to live a double life on the low down. Yeah, you're a real prince McDonald. I don't personally know any self respecting Gay man who'd fuck you if you had a thousand dollar bill tucked in the crack of your ass. You've got about as much credibilty as a Sexual Orientation Deprogrammer—whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean—as I have as prima ballerina.  
"You want me to say it? You want me to call myself a horrible, degenerate fag and beat my breast and recant my sexuality? Two words, mac: blow me. On second thought—don't. My dick would never forgive me. And neither would my husband."  
Taisa swallowed hard. "What the fuck-?"  
Edward turned fond eyes towards the man he had loved and fought with for over three decades. "Yeah, you, shithead." Dropping to one knee, Edward took Taisa's hands in his own. "I've said it before. I'll say it again. In fact, I'll quote myself—remember the day we had the fight over that fucking Dell computer you bought? Remember what I told you?"  
Taisa nodded slowly. "You said, 'I loved you when you were an asshole colonel. I love you now that you're so deeply tied into my life that it would take a chainsaw and a team of lawyers to separate us. If you think I'm a crazy old fuck with bogus memories and a hunger for self-promotion, fine! And if you think I'm the man you loved so much in Amestris you had to cross between worlds to find me again, terrific!' And then…"  
"And then you carried me off to our bedroom," Ed released Mustang's hands, arms sliding around his lover's taut waist. "And you told me once again with your hands…and your mouth…and your beautiful cock…you reminded me what we really mean to each other. That," he addressed the men surrounding him, squirming uneasily in the darkness, "is why we can yell and scream and insult each other the way we do. Because of thirty years of trust."  
"And devotion," Taisa added, brushing Ed's damp hair back from his forehead.  
"And devotion," Edward affirmed. "You can't get that fucking around in alleyways, hoping your innocent wife or girlfriend won't find out. It takes guts to live Out and be true to yourself…but it's the only way you can have what my…husband…and I have. Speaking of which-Taisa Roy Mustang…will you marry me?"  
The room full of sweaty, guilt ridden closet homosexuals-plus one self-proclaimed 'cured' closet case—instantly became so quiet you could hear a tree frog fart.  
For a split second, Taisa debated pulling Edward up into his lap. He'd have done it at home—but in a room full of possibly hostile strangers it didn't seem right to call attention to the disparity between their heights. Besides, Ed had just humbled himself to the point of kneeling at Taisa's feet, which in and of itself was good reason to question the older man's sanity. Ed didn't kneel unless he was a)giving a blowjob, or b)preparing to sink his teeth into somebody's ankles or, c)trying to drag Yao out from under the sofa, where the psychotic Siamese would lurk, eager to dig his fishhooks Ed's human toes.  
Rising, Taisa shoved his chair to one side and sank down on his knees to face his lover, who pulled him close. His automail hand swept through Taisa's thick black hair, snapping the rubber band that held it back into a neat queue. "Well, shithead?" Edward demanded.  
Taisa bit his lover lightly on the chin. "As long as I'm not the one in the white dress….yes. And stop calling me shithead, you manipulative old bastard. Could have at least proposed to me someplace romantic!"  
"Fuck you! I was going to wait until Paris, but the Wanker got me so pissed off—HEY! Somebody turn up the lights!" he shouted irritably, then blinked as the room flooded with light again. "Hold on a minute, love. We've still got an audience."  
An audience that was one short…  
"Where the fuck is Wanker McDonald?" Edward demanded. "What'd he do—take your money, piss and moan and then bugger off?" He stared around the room. "Fuck that! You people better see if you can get a refund."  
A ginger-haired man in the front row loosened his tie, blotted the sweat from his forehead and offered the lovers a weak but determined smile. "It was almost worth twenty thousand just to see the look on McDonald's face when you told him off, sir. I…I think what you said…well…I think I got what I came for, listening to you. And you're right. The low down isn't fair to our families, not if we really love them. I guess…well, I'd be a better dad if I was living honestly. And it's not fair to raise my kid in a house built on lies."  
Edward nodded. "Do what you have to do—but stop hurting people. Stop lying to them. If you love men…then love 'em. Quit hating yourself. Save your anger, he offered the man a fierce, toothy grin, "for the real evils in this world. As for me and my lovely fiancée—"  
"—ohhh, now don't start that shit Taisa warned.  
"—we're going to tie up some loose ends and get the hell out of Ranamuerte, go home and tell our families they've got a wedding to plan…and that Taisa wants a cathedral length train on his wedding dress—"  
-the fuck I do! Taisa roared.  
"—a dozen bridesmaids in pink and a pair of crotchless lace panties to wear with his garter belt!"  
"EDWARD! You asshole! I'll kill you for this!"  
He hadn't waited for the elevator. He pounded down the two flights of stairs as if Satan had set fire to his coat tails.  
Charles had the bag with the receipts. Hopefully he'd gotten the hell out of the conference room before the arse bandits who paid him a bundle each suddenly started listening to that aging hippy and that hot piece of ass he was obviously banging. God, he thought. Make me strong. Make me not want…not want…Ohhhhh…Not want to be bent over on his knees in some filthy men's room while that Gook with the smoldering eyes drilled him so hard, slapping his ass and calling him a dirty whore. God! His heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out between his ribs. His fat buttocks clenched as he shivered, stumbling up the hall towards his suite. Ohhh….yes….the Gook can fuck me…and that blond hippy can make me suck his….yes…damn, yes….!  
He snatched at the door knob, then recoiled, wiping the slime off his hand onto his pants leg. "Ugh! Fuckin' frogs! Damn things are everywhere!" A mottled blue peeper splatted onto his shoe before launching off down the hallway, burping contentedly as if he hadn't been half-crushed a moment ago.  
Slamming and locking the door behind him, he lurched over to the desk and sank down exhaustedly. Blood hammered in his veins. Worms of sweat crawled under his arm pits and down his receding hairline, dripping into his eyes. Feeling that familiar nausea crawling up his throat, he fumbled for that tiny phial of white tablets. Shaking one into his palm, he popped it into his mouth, wiping his sweaty lips and waiting for the sharp, fizzy tingle of the medicine as it took effect.  
Unfortunately for McDonald, he'd forgotten to wash his hands after squishing a Dendrobates azureus, the attractive but deadly Blue Poision Dart frog, and neurotoxins work a hell of a lot faster than nitroglycerine...  
"!"  
"SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT"  
Eighty feet above the jungle floor they raced, side by side, whooping and screaming like Alphonse and Edward had long ago, racing each other by the river in the green fields of Risembool. "These fuckers can go sixty miles an hour on the downhill run," Ed shouted, his ponytail streaming straight behind him as he whooshed ahead.  
"Yeah…and how the hell do you stop at that speed?" Taisa shouted back.  
"Hope that fat fuck McDonald is there to break your fall—c'mon! Catch up with me at the break station," he called back, zooming around the corner and breaking with a gloved hand.  
By the time Mustang had rolled gently up to the tree top break station, Ed had broken out the bottled water and sandwiches. "I got yours without mayo. Turkey on wheat with cheddar, okay?"  
"What's for dessert?"  
"Brownies. Kinda smashed. I sat on 'em."  
"Great. I prefer brownies that taste like a sweaty ass."  
"Fuck you, Taisa," Ed grinned aimiably. "Shut up and eat."  
"Ashiteru,Edowado." His lover smelled of fresh sweat, sunwarmed hair, chocolate and the ever-present steely tang of automail. Eighty feet above the cares of the world, cradled in the branches—a universe of fresh green, salty sea air, and the serenade of a billion toxic amphibians, winking like deadly jewels on the leaves far below them.  
A gentle metal finger trailed slowly down his spine. "I spoke to Teddy before we left," Ed murmured drowsily. "She was thrilled, of course. And Alphonse wondered why I waited so long to ask you."  
"I never thought it was necessary…but…yes. Yes. Let's do it." Mustang shook out his long black hair, pushing it away from his neck. "And I want Teddy for my best man. She'd look great in a tux. And Hughes can by my Matron of Honor."  
One golden eye cracked open. "In a dress?"  
"Damn straight. He did it at the Lambda Lavender Ball. He can do it again, damn it. Gracia would die laughing."  
"I was thinking we could shop for rings in Paris. Or maybe have them custom made." Ed sat up and glared at his watch. "Shit. We need to get going. It's almost three o'clock."  
Mustang stretched luxuriously, flexing his back until it popped. "I know what I'm going to engrave on your ring."  
"What?"  
" Something appropriate, like 'I love you, asshole'."  
Ed snickered. "Then I'll have yours engraved 'beloved shithead'. And Alphonse wondered if marriage would change us—hell, we already insult each other like married people do anyway. Not that he and Winry ever did. Those two…that was really something. They were lucky, Roy. So are we."  
"The only one that wasn't was Teddy," Roy offered quietly. "Not fair."  
"No," Ed sighed. "It's not. I knew she wasn't going to end up with Hughes."  
Mustang nodded. "That was never in the cards and they knew it. I might as well tell you, Hughes and I asked Django to find somebody worthy. Think she'd be pissed if she found out."  
Ed's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You mean you tried to Django her? Huh…yeah, she'd be pissed. But only if it didn't work and she found out. Fucksake, don't tell her, all right. Don't need to make it any worse for her."  
"Yeah. Give me a hand with this harness, will you?"  
After double-checking their harness clips, the pair clipped themselves back onto the zip line and prepared to launch off the break station. Ed had already jumped and had gone a dozen feet ahead when he heard a loud yelp and a stream of curses behind him. Braking with his glove, he dangled above the tree tops and struggled to look behind him.  
"Taisa! What is it?" Mustang was writhing and cursing and grabbing at his head. "Hey! Watch it! Don't fall! Hang on….lemme get back…" It was difficult, inching hand over hand up the slight incline. Mustang was back on the edge of the platform, elbows flying and blistering the air with profanity. All Ed saw was a flash of his lover's belt knife and a what looked like a handful of black silk dropped to the forest floor beneath them. "What the hell?"  
Half of Taisa's inky mane was gone,.rudely hacked up to the collar on one side. "Got my fucking hair caught in the gears," his lover growled. "If I hadn't cut it loose I'd have ripped it out by the roots."  
"And taken a chunk of your scalp with it," Ed shook his head in disbelief. "Goddamn it, you should have tied it up. If you had read the fucking manual—"  
"I did tie it up," Taisa shot back. "You were the one who broke the elastic! You just don't stop and think, do you, shithead! Jeeez! This is your own damned fault."  
Ed pushed off from the platform. "I don't have time for this crap," he shouted, not looking back. "I'll see you at the array."  
Not even going to wait for me, are you? Taisa was fuming. He'd kept his hair unfashionably long to please Edward. Now that his hair was ruined, there was no point bothering with it anymore. "Fuck you, asshole," he muttered, grabbing hold of the rest of his mane and sawing it off with the razor edge of his knife. It now swung just above the tops of his shoulders. "I'll get it trimmed up when I get home."  
NOW….KOA KAMPGROUND, EL PASO, TEXAS  
There was a reason Mayland Alexander Hughes got paid as much money as he did by the Elric family: he was an absolute stone genius at getting himself out of trouble. And since he was, by unofficial adoption, an Elric—just as Tom Hagen had been adopted by the Corleone family in The Godfather—he knew it was in his best interest and his family's best interest to stick it to that smarmy son of a bitch that was his brother by birth.  
To wit:  
Item 1: That the underage children of Robert Hughes had aggravated and abused an elderly man, a pregnant—hopefully soon—woman and traumatized young Elysia Hughes.  
Item 2: That said children were entrusted to an authorized and licensed day camp staff and deliberately disobeyed said staff and ran off unsupervised.  
Item 3: That said children had vandalized the interior of the Behemoth. That Margot Hughes had deliberately disobeyed her pregnant—hopefully soon—aunt, had tampered with the controls of the Behemoth and released the parking brake.  
Item 4: That William Hughes took unauthorized possession of an Ovation Adamas 12 acoustic guitar, custom made by the Ovation luthiers by request from Alphonse and Edward Elric as a 50th birthday present for Ms Trisha Edward Elric. That William Hughes was told by Ms Elric to put the guitar down, at which point he attempted to strike her in the head with the instrument. William Hughes then smashed the Ovation against the rear exit door of the Behemoth, damaging the door, the interior of the Behemoth and completely damaging the Ovation beyond possibly salvage. The guitar was insured for over 3000.  
Item 5: That as a result of the brake being released by Margot Hughes, the Behemoth motorhome rolled backward down a slope and over the campsite of Mr. Jean-Remy Havoc, 40, of New Orleans, Louisiana. Among the items damaged were Mr. Havoc's Coleman tent, his camping gear, personal effects, and his 2006 Harley-Davidson Electra-Glide Classic motorcycle, valued at approximately 20,000.00. Mr. Havoc was struck by the Behemoth and sustained a mild concussion, shock and bruising, not to mention profound emotional trauma.  
The injured parties, namely Trisha Elric, Jean-Remy Havoc, Elysia Hughes and Gracia Evans Hughes have agreed not to press charges of parental negligence, attempted assault with intention of bodily harm in the case of the minor William Hughes, property damage and emotional distress. In return, the following compensations and considerations must be met:  
1\. William Hughes and Margot Hughes must be taken into custody by their father, Robert immediately. All three are strongly advised to seek family counseling.  
2\. A cash reimbursement of no less than the full value of the custom Ovation Adamas guitar and its replacement delivered immediately to Trisha Edward Elric (estimated cost: 7,000.000)  
3\. Immediate cash reimbursement to Mr. Havoc for the replacement of his sole mode of transportation and other considerations (50,000.00) plus replacement value for his tent (200.00) and his personal effects (500.00). Also all hospital and medical bills will be paid by Robert Hughes.  
4\. Signed statement that neither Mayland Alexander Hughes, his family, the Elric family nor Mr. Havoc are in any way held responsible for any damages to the Behemoth motor home.  
5\. Furthermore, Robert Hughes will pay for airfare to Atlanta, GA for the Hughes family, the Elrics and Mr. Havoc, and will also pay all rental fees for a minivan rental so that the families may continue their vacation together.  
Robert Hughes and his loathsome offspring were gone. The Behemoth was up for sale with the help of the KOA staff who were overjoyed to be cut into the deal. "Not their fault," reasoned Gracia. "Nothing short of iron manacles could have kept those little monsters under control." Being stuck in El Paso for three more days meant that the family was moved over to one of the large Kamper Lodges which slept eight—Mays and Alphonse in one bedroom, Teddy, Gracia and Elysia in the other…and Jean-Remy Havoc on the pull out in the den with the TV and the DVD player.  
"He's like Gracia was," Alphonse admitted to Mays as they fished together on the dock at sunset. Gracia and Elysia were playing in the pool again…and Teddy and Havoc had rented a car and had ostensibly gone out riding and then to dinner…not that they'd get much eating done, as much as they kept talking to each other. "She was hired to take care of Teddy after the cancer surgery, remember? She just walked into our lives…and never left."  
"Do you like him, Alphonse?"  
The older man smiled gently. "The last time I saw my child this happy was…well…to be honest, I don't think she's ever been this happy. She lights up when she looks at him, doesn't she?"  
Hughes poked a fresh green weed into the corner of his mouth, squinted at the sun, and tried not to look too proud of his magical handiwork, although truth be told he had not yet lived up to his side of the bargain with Saint Django…and they were running out of time. God, he thought, Taisa must be drilling Ed cross-eyed by now. "What I can't get over is that they actually met over ten years ago in New Orleans, that night B.B. King played at his family's club in the French Quarter. She was with Christophe. He was with—what was her name again?"  
"Solaris—Solange…something like that."  
"Christophe was being a prick to her and he caught her walking out of the ladies' room after crying her eyes out and actually told her to ditch that asshole! And you know, it was after that New Orleans trip to visit the Rockbells that Teddy finally got it together and kicked Christophe out. And Havoc divorced Solange. And now they end up meeting when the Behemoth ran over him a decade later, when they're both free."  
"You've noticed, I'm sure, that they are speaking their own language now?"  
"Patois and English—Teddy's not even aware of it. She needed to set her watch and she asked me 'quelle l'heur?'. I answered in English and she said, 'd'accord, merci!' I think she's got it bad…and I think he's got it even worse. Where did they go tonight?"  
"Out to Franklin Mountain. Allegedly they are going trail riding until the park closes and then they're running over to Juarez, just to check it out, see if its alright to take Elysia over there for the day."  
"When we both know they'll probably end up in some quiet little joint over coffee talking about gris-gris and juju and all that weird shit they have in common. What did he say his grandfather was? A root doctor?"  
"No, he worked root—he practiced swamp magic. And his grandmere read tarot cards at the Tea Rooms in New Orleans. Same tarot deck we played poker with last night." Alphonse checked his line, but nothing was biting tonight. "Teddy…well, in all honesty….she thinks he needs to know about the Elric family business."  
"Anndd….you think…?"  
There was a ploop! Alphonse's line jerked. "I think she might be right."  
Juarez, they decided, would be completely sucky in the rain. And it was raining like a motherfucker, like somebody unzipped the clouds and dumped buckets and sheets of cold rain across the Rio Grande valley. A string of Christmas lights by the side of the road was about the only thing they could see clearly, so they pulled over. It was a little juke joint, a playground for the local breed of shitkicker, but in their riding clothes and trail dust, Teddy and Jean-Remy fit right in.  
"Hooooeee! I'm a mess!" Teddy bitched, shaking the rain off her fedora. "Damn, I wish I wore my contacts. My glasses are all steamed up."  
Havoc shook the rain out of his shaggy blond hair, laughing. "You look fine to me, cher. Want a beer—or they've got hard cider on tap?"  
"Cider's good—and I'm going to clean up. Be right back."  
In the ladies' room, Teddy was subjected to some snarky giggles from some taut and tanned long stemmed Texas fillies, cracking Juicy Fruit and applying layers of sparkling gloss over their plumped out lips. Laying her hat aside, Teddy stared at her reflection with pride. I'm old enough to be their mother she laughed inwardly and for a broad my age I'm all right, damn it! She splashed her face and patted it dry, wincing a little from the sunburn across her cheeks and nose. She wore little make up on general principles but dabbed on a touch of powder and a bit of tinted mint lip balm. She smoothed her braid, admired the Navajo silver and turquoise earings Remy had bought her—"turquoise will protect you, that's what grandmere believed"—and wiped the smudges off her 'Johnny glasses', those Lennon-look-alike specs that Christophe had hated so much…  
"They make you look like a dyke, Teddy—and I'm sick of being seen with a woman who dresses like she'd rather eat pussy!" he'd snapped at her before the B. B. King show at L'Heur Bleu. He'd snatched the glasses off her face and bent the frames for spite, tossing them back at her with a razor-like grin. She'd stalked off to the ladies' room, cried quietly in the stall, washed her face, daubed on a bit of powder and tried to bend her frames back into shape, to no avail. She was half blind as she stumbled out into the club, colliding with a tall blond man she couldn't see clearly.  
"Oh…I'm sorry…I broke my glasses and I can't see where I'm going."  
"No, it's all right, cher." The voice was warm, softly accented and very kind. "You didn't break your glasses. That couchon at your table broke them for you. He is your husband?"  
She shrugged. "After these years he might as well be."  
"Petite-Ange," he told her softly, "you deserve better, non?" The blurry stranger gently touched her cheek. "I light the candles for you, that the Saints make you strong. Kick his ass to the curb and find someone who'll treat you right, oui?"  
And I did, she grinned. And you booted your bitch. And now…there's nothing to keep me from…from what I'm feeling…except the Red Coat business. And if you can cheerfully talk about all that swampwater hoodoo crap and pray to the loa and work the Saints…then my alchemy is likely going to be no big whoop after all. Giving her fedora a tilt of the brim, she headed out to the dance floor  
…and he was waiting for her. Something about the way he stood there, hands in his pockets, leaning against a post in the center of the dance floor…something about the way his head was tilted to one side, the hopeful, tender expression…the way his blue eyes danced at the sight of her, how his arms opened wide…  
Teddy loathed country music…but she loved Bob Dylan. Overhead, the speakers crackled to life with the voice of Garth Brooks…  
When the rain is blowing in your face  
And the whole world is on your case  
I could offer you a warm embrace  
To make you feel my love…  
Daddy had Mom. Edward has Taisa. Even Hoenheim had Grandmother. Is there any reason, she closed her eyes tightly as she clung to him, that Remy and I can't have each other? Saint Django…won't you give me a sign? Please?  
When the evening shadows and the stars appear  
And there is no one there to dry your tears  
I could hold you for a million years  
To make you feel my love  
I know you haven't made your mind up yet  
But I would never do you wrong  
I've known it from the moment that we met  
No doubt in my mind where you belong  
"Teddy….ma petite-ange…look at me." A strong, gentle hand cupped her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his. She pulled off her glasses, stuffed them in her waistcoat pocket. This time she didn't hide her tears from him, and he kissed them softly from her cheeks—but it was she who kissed him first, her arms sliding under his jacket, hands curling around his shoulders.  
The storms are raging on the rollin' sea  
And on the highway of regret  
The winds of change are blowing wild and free  
You ain't seen nothing like me yet  
"Teddy…petite…I can see your wings," he whispered in her ear. "Golden wings and a crown above you, like the Saints watching you…"  
She stared up at him. "Oh god….Remy…what you saw…was there…?"  
"The cross of Christu…and Damballah's rainbow serpent curled around it. And Papa Alphonse—he has it too. Soon as I saw you beside Miss Gracia, I saw your wings. Saw them ten years ago. I…I can see them so clearly….My Teddy…whoever you are, whatever your people claim to be…you fight on the angel's side."  
Django! I asked for a sign…and now…!  
"Je t'aime, Remy."  
"Et moi…aussi…ma petite. Ma ti-bonne ange."  
I could make you happy, make your dreams come true  
Nothing that I wouldn't do  
Go to the ends of the earth for you  
To make you feel my love  
They woke him when they came in, around one o'clock. "Daddy," she told him, "time to talk Red Coat business."  
NOW…RANAMUERTE ISLAND…THE CAVE OF EYES-OF-GOLD  
By the time Taisa caught up with Edward on the southeast face he was ready to boot his lover as hard as humanly possibly with a non-automail appendage. Edward, on the other hand, was so shocked by Taisa's appearance that he simply stared, jaw hanging, grasping to find a word to describe the chilling sense of déjà vu that curled in his guts.  
Taisa's hair was hacked off. Spiky. Short. Framing his finely boned face, fringing his almond eyes…Xingian eyes. That annoyed, superior, snarky look on his face….and the gloves. Edward shivered as memories of another life, another world began overwhelming him…  
"The name's Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. State Alchemist. Pay me a visit in Central sometime."  
Those last agonizing moments in Amestris, before he fled his homeland forever, crushing his Colonel to his chest, feeling Mustang's heart racing wildly against his breast, kissing so fiercely he cut his lip, wanting so desperately for time to just stop, goddamn it…stop for us…give me just another moment…let us breathe together another moment longer…Flame and Fullmetal…warm steel and sweet sparks of desire. I died that day, a little. And came back to life when I found you again. Even your name…how did your mother know? Named you after that English asshole who knocked your mother up, crashed his plane—and never told her about the wife and five kids back in Blackpool. He was a colonel in the RAF. He flew a P51-Mustang. He said his name was Roy Rogers, and he was kin to the famous singing cowboy. 'Taisa' means 'colonel' in Japanese. Your mother gave you your name and rank back, my love. Colonel Roy Mustang you were. Colonel Roy Mustang you are again…and mine.  
Now. Always.  
"What the fuck are you staring at?" Mustang barked sarcastically.  
"N-nothing. It's….never mind. You ready?"  
Mustang rolled his eyes. "For this Fullmetal Asshole shit? Am I ever ready?"  
"No."  
"So let's get it over with."  
BRRRAAAAPPPP! BORK-BORK! BRAAAAAAPPPP!  
Something grabbed at Taisa's leg. "Oi! Get it off me!" A toad as large as dinner plate had latched onto his pants leg, hard enough to bruise his shin. "Ed! Cane toad!" He swung wildly, slapping at it but the stubborn amphibian refused to let go.  
A hard slap with an automail hand knocked it free. "D-dd-damn!" Ed stuttered, feeling slightly sick. "Ugly bastard!"  
Mustang managed a weak smile. "Yeah…and your father used to kiss them. Is that how he got you?"  
Ed ignored the taunt. "How's the leg?"  
Roy shrugged. "I'm not crippled. Let's get this over with ."  
"Runestone, the guidebook said."  
"Nuh-uh. It's an alchemical array. Honestly—you've seen enough books on European archaeology. Does this look like Viking Futhark to you?" Gloved fingers carefully traced the interlacing circles and glyphs. "I could draw this in my sleep."  
The disc of grey stone, balancing freely on its rim and carved on only one side, was starting to make Ed excited…and Taisa became uneasy. "Okay…fine. We've seen it. Nothing happening. Nothing ever happened with this thing. Now let's get the fuck out of here, Edward."  
"Look…the lines are unbroken. Nothing's been rubbed off, after all this time. Nice job, Dad—wait! Shhh!" Edward held up his hand, gesturing for Taisa to keep still. "Did you…oh holy fuck! It's…humming…."  
Unable to stop himself, Edward ran his fingers along the outer rim of the glyph—then he reached for his belt knife. As he had done in Germany, he nicked his cheek, captured a single drop of his blood on the tip of his gloved finger.  
Then he slapped his palms together and slammed them firmly down onto the rim of the array.  
The stone trembled, then rocked backward, slamming to the ground and raising a thick cloud of dust. "Christ, nice going, Fullmetal," Taisa smirked, although his the color was rapidly draining out of his face and he found he had to lean against the cavern walls to keep from falling over.  
Edward fell to his knees and slapped the stone once more. Blue fire sizzled along the crevices of the array. Abruptly, the humming stopped. Between one heartbeat and another, the stone had turned green, and as clear as seawater.  
To his horror, he saw a huge pair of hands slammed against the other side of the array. Somewhere behind him, Taisa made a small mewing sound of pure terror before vomiting into the dust.  
A huge head appeared, staring back at him. Then, it beamed.  
"EDWARD ELRIC! You're ALIVE! I can't believe it!"  
"M—M—MAJOR ARMSTRONG?"  
….TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

NOW—EL PASO, TEXAS NOW—EL PASO, TEXAS  
"I want you to Wiki the following name, Jean-Remy: Phillip von Hoenheim. If that doesn't bring up the entry, try Philippus Theophrastus Aureolus Bombastus von Hohenheim."  
"Hoenheim?" Havoc caught Teddy's eye. "Wait a minute. Didn't you say that was your—"  
She nodded. "Just look it up. I'm going to make some coffee. Soon as you're done, we'll continue." She patted Alphonse on the shoulder. "Daddy, while Remy's reading our history, you might want to wiki Cajun Traiteuristes. Those are Remy's people."  
An hour later both men had a great deal to say to one another.  
"Daddy, let's touch on Remy's people first—it's not going to be as complicated. What did you find out about le Traiteuristes?"  
Alphonse read from his own notes, from the screen of his iMac. "The Traiteur is a category of faith healers found only among the Acadian peoples of southwest Louisiana. A tradition passed from mother to son, father to daughter. The Traiteuriste tradition is similar to that of the Medicine Man, a healer who does not own his power but gives it freely when asked. Predominantly, they practice laying on of hands, although there are elements in Traiteuriste belief that include root work, herbalism, white magic and the calling of the Saints and ancestors. The tradition is slowly dying out although it tends to run in families for generations." Alphonse regarded the younger man with great interest. "Teddy said your father was a root doctor. I'm assuming your mother was a Traiteur and trained you in the family tradition?"  
Havoc nodded. He pulled a carrot out of his pocket and jammed it comically in the side of his mouth, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, chers. Not something we talk about outside the family…but then," he smiled gently at Teddy, "you are my family now, oui?"  
The Elrics nodded and Alphonse continued his questions. "The Traiteur use choreographed movements of the hands in specific patterns to weave the energy around their patients, then mentally will that energy to go to the part of the body affected by disease. They believe that they can ask the Higher Self—the ti-bon ange—to reveal how to help the sufferer. They believe that each person is connected to a greater whole—the gros-bon ange—and that all living things are interconnected. They also believe that the souls of families are connected between the worlds. Interesting…very, very interesting. Mischief? Does this sound vaguely familiar to you?"  
'One is All—and All is One. From Gold and Silver, the Steiner brothers, to Izumi Harnet Curtis, to Edward and Alphonse Elric, to Trisha Edward Elric…and someday to Edwin Rockbell Elric, if we're lucky enough to see that day," Teddy recited the lineage of her alchemic masters with pride. "The gros-bon ange is the Eggregore. The deathless part of us that moves through the Gateway between our worlds—the ti-bon ange. The hand movements—a transmutation circle contructed through mental visualization. And the family, connected between the worlds, drawing them together inexplicably even when they are born in different cultures and on different continents—and in Taisa's case, of different races, not that that matters."  
"Not that it matters, indeed. Just so. Nicely done, Mischief. Ed would be proud of you."  
"The hell he would," she chuckled, before turning serious again. "So you see, Remy, the parallels between your training and mine." She held up her hands, a finger's distance apart. "Both of us inheriting from wisdom traditions. You became a Traiteur and learned to heal and work with energies and to percieve the ti-bon ange. I, well, I was trained by my father and uncle in the paths of alchemy."  
Remy was quick to catch the distinction. "I am a Traiteur, true. But I notice," he regarded Alphonse intently, that you do not call yourself an Alchemist, though you studied a lifetime at the side of two great masters. Nor does Papa Alphonse call you such."  
It cost Teddy a great deal to tell her lover the truth. "Because I'm not good enough," she told him. "Alchemists are scientists, with a scope of knowledge and education that—"  
-stop right there, petite." Havoc held up a hand to cut her off. "If you see wrongness, you try to make it right. If you see danger, you do your best to protect anyone in harm's way. If you see suffering, you comfort. If you can make a difference, you don't sit on your ass—you take the risk and do it, eh? Well? I'm right, aren't I?" He glared at Alphonse and shook the carrot at the older man. "C'est vrai—it's truth, no? This is what our Teddy does, was taught to do in this world? This is how you taught your child? Then all the equations, the circles and such—that's the flesh and muscle of the body. The bones of it—this she knows, Papa. Alchemist—not? So you say. So Oncle Edward say. Alchemist. Traiteuriste. Magician. Words…just words. What you and Mama Winry and Oncle Edward have made of this woman," he drew a deep breath, "is one who does good in this world. One who fights on the angel's side. Like you. Like my Maman."  
Alphonse offered his hand to the Cajun. "Like you."  
Teddy laid her hand over theirs. "Like us."  
On their last night in Texas Teddy and Jean-Remy stayed in a cabin to themselves. Elysia was disappointed until Remy promised to wake her early with a breakfast of pain perdu, the rich Creole version of french toast. Mayland and Gracia smiled knowingly, and Gracia offered Teddy back the bottle of KY Intrigue Teddy had presented her with back in Los Angeles. "Grace, it's not like we're going to be screwing our brains out all night," Teddy shot back, blushing. And, indeed, they did not—although they did not neglect the pleasures of the flesh altogether that evening. Unlike Christophe, Havoc was a tender, generous lover with a playful streak, and she found absoutely nothing to complain about his body, either. And after years of Solange's chilly narcissim, Teddy's uninhibited delight in giving him pleasure was like sweet rain after a long season of drought. Still, more important was what they shared, what they learned from one another in the ways of wisdom.  
It was a relief to finally meet someone else who had spent a lifetime in covert apprenticeship in an arcane practice frowned upon by the world at large. Other than Taisa, Gracia and Hughes, Teddy never dared discuss alchemy outside the family—and was cautious even within that circle, since her brother and sister were skeptics. And the Traiteurs were dying out in Louisiana, now coming under the fire of certain people who regarded them as heretics and ignorant opportunists, even though the creed of the Traiteur forbade accepting payment for healing.  
By the time they hiked to the Kamper Lodge to make breakfast for their extended family, Teddy had learned to call the Saints—and Havoc had learned the principles of Analysis, Deconstruction and Reconstruction.  
When Elysia scampered off to the bathroom to wash the sticky syrup from her face and hands, Alphonse gestured for a moment of undivided attention. "After we get settled in in Atlanta, I'm going to hire a sitter for Elysia for the evening. We're going to be heading out to Orlando 5 and there's a few very important things I need to share with all of you—even you, Teddy. And I want Remy to brief the two of you about his training, too."  
Hughes' eyes widened behind his narrow lenses. "Havoc? You're not an Alchemist too, are you?"  
"Let's just say," the elder Elric continued, that there are some remarkable parallels between his training and ours—and leave it at that for now."  
NOW—American Airlines Flight 72, El Paso International Airport/Atlanta Ga  
"Excuse me, Professor Elric?" The pin on her apron said 'STACY'. She had a fan of fine freckles across her cheeks, a midwestern twang and a twinkle of genuine warmth in her blue eyes as she bent down to the tall, distinguished gentleman on the aisle seat. "Are you by any chance related to Professor Edward Elric? He's flown with us before."  
Alphonse panicked inwardly, remembering the emails from Taisa and Sheska about the scene at the Los Angeles airport after Ed's tantrums over the metal detectors. "Er…yes. He's my brother. Ah..is he in any trouble…again?"  
"Trouble? Oh! No! Not at all, sir! It's just that he has a friend on this flight who wanted to come and pay his respects—oh, here he is! Professor Elric, this is our Steward, Paul Youngblood. Paul, this is Mr Edward's brother."  
The slender young man swept up the aisle and knelt down to shake Alphonse's hand enthusiastically. "Oh, Mr. Alphonse! I absolutely adore your brother! And that Mr. Mustang, tch-tch-tch! Those eyes! They make such a sweet couple! Why, we even serenaded them on their flight out of Houston last run! We had the Rainbow Chorus of Atlanta on board, coming home from a HRC fundraiser in the Big Peach—such fun!"  
Teddy leaned over, eyes wide with horror. "Somebody serenaded Edo? And lived?"  
Paul winked at her. "And you must be another Elric too—no, no—you can't deny it! Even if you don't have that pretty blond hair—you have the elan, that l'aire manifique that distinguises your wonderful family!"  
"One French bullshitter on this plane is enough," she laughed, offering her hand. "I'm Teddy Elric, and this is my boyfriend, Jean-Remy Havoc."  
Paul did a double-take. "Oh…my," he twittered. "They do grow them tall and handsome in Paree, don't they?"  
"Wouldn't know," laughed Havoc, unthreatened by a male admirer. "I'm a swamp rat from Louisiana."  
"And this is the rest of our family," Teddy cut in, introducing the Hughes', seated in the row ahead of them. "The charmer in the middle is my goddaughter, Elysia."  
Paul immediately dropped to his knees and professed his eternal and undying love for the child, thus earning himself a lifetime of good karma points from her doting father, which were quadrupled when Paul and Stacy led father and daughter to the cockpit to meet the pilot and co-pilot. When they returned, Elysia was crowing with pride that she'd been allowed to hold the wheel for a second. "I flewed, Mommy!" she gushed as Stacy brought her a chilled fruit punch while the grownups sipped their coffee. "When I grow up, can I be a pilot?"  
"You can be anything you want, honey," Gracia beamed. "Including a big sister." For some reason, all the big people laughed at this and Daddy looked at Mommy with a special smile that their daughter was too excited to notice.  
"So how did Uncle Edo and Taisa rate a serenade?" Teddy wanted to know.  
"Oh darling, they were being so discriminated against! It was terrible—I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but honestly! That foul, sweaty, potty-mouthed hypocrite was beast, simply a beast to your darling uncle and his sweetie. The things he kept muttering—oh, I wanted to bitch slap those fat lips so badly, even if he was a famous writer. And since they found him dead in that dreadful poop-hole of a hotel in Ranamuerte—"  
"RANAMUERTE?" The Elrics and the Hugheses chorused in horror. "Did you say—"  
"Ranamuerte!" Paul confided. "Dead Frog Island. Dead Bitch Island, more like, if you've read Ted Casablanca's gossip colum this morning! Turns out that Mr. I'll-Make-A-Straight-Man-Out-Of-You was about as butch as one of the Fab Five. Deprogramming closet cases for twenty thou a pop—they were even thinking of giving him his own talk show on Fox News! Come to find out he's been—"  
"Careful," Alphonse cautioned. "Little ears!"  
"Well, he's been downright naughty," Paul ammended himself. "And somebody decided to boot him out of the closet and into eternity with frog poison! And-ooopsie! There's the no smoking light! Time to get the belts on, darlings, and push those tray tables into the upright position—notice I didn't say straight!"  
"—we noticed," chorused Hughes and Havoc.  
"—so I must run. Kisses to your family, darlings. Ciao!"  
Father and daughter regarded one another uneasily. "Daddy…Edo wouldn't. Would he?"  
Alphonse didn't answer. Ni-isan? he fretted silently. What have you gotten into this time?  
NOW-RENAISSANCE CONCOURSE AIRPORT HOTEL, ATLANTA , GEORGIA  
I have been avoiding this for far too long. Ni-isan…you should be with me for this.  
Elysia had jumped from lap to lap, stealing kisses and hugs before being carried off to bed. The hotel concierge had found a jewel of a sitter with a honey-warm southern accent, a gentle smile and a huge storybook. Ms. Price was in the adjoining suite watching My Neighbor Totoro with the little charmer before hot cocoa and bedtime stories. "We have an important meeting," Gracia explained. "It may run for hours and we just wanted to make sure our little girl was being looked after. My husband and I are just a room away, so don't hesitate to call us if you need us."  
Teddy had sent up to room service for a tray of assorted sandwiches, some brownies and plenty of non-alcoholic drinks. The coffee maker was already working overtime.  
Jean-Remy had gone up to the gym and run a few miles on the treadmill. Mays had gone with him. Gracia had enjoyed the Jacuzzi while Teddy swam laps in the indoor pool, as if she could out-swim the tension creeping up into her shoulders and neck.  
Alphonse Elric, Alchemist to the core, was not so cynical as his elder brother with regards to religion. Still, if he prayed at all it was to his most personal saints—his mother Tricia and his beloved wife. Ten years gone and the pain of losing Winry had never lessened. I never felt old he observed until the first night I spent alone in our bed, knowing I'd never feel her arms around me again. I hurt so much I almost wondered if the gift of loving someone is worth the price of the pain on the day you have to say goodbye…it's as if the equivalent exchange of love is loss. And tonight, if I tell them the truth about Amestris—all of the truth as I know it—there is no telling what I might lose.  
But I can't send my child into such risk without explaining why this is so important. Because she's risking so much now. Especially now that Lieutenant—no, Jean-Remy—Havoc has entered the equation…If Hoenheim never met Tricia, would she have loved the Lieutenant instead? If Hoenheim is reborn, will Teddy leave Remy?  
Ni-isan! You need to be here when I tell them. I—you never know how I draw on your strength. We should face this together, as a family.  
The table was ready. Pads of paper, pens, chalk and markers—some points would need to be drawn out, literally. The tray would be up in a few minutes. He could hear Teddy and Jean-Remy getting dressed, talking softly. Gracia and Mayland were kissing their beloved daughter one more time before letting themselves in.  
Winry…I need you. Help me do this without hurting them more than I have to.  
"Teddy, I want you to explain—as simply as you can—what an eggregore is."  
"Silly analogy," she began, digging through the fruit basket, "but this is how Edo showed it to me one day in the kitchen." She held up a pomegranate. "I knew Daddy was going to ask me to explain this part so I asked for one of these. Anyway, dumb question, but when we think of pomegranates, we think of the part we eat: the seeds. Right? Inside," she tapped it with the flat of her fruit knife, "there are hundreds of seeds. Each is whole, unique and separate…but bound together inside this rind. Now, some seeds touch, some don't. Some are on opposite sides, some are pressed together. Point is," she emphasized, "they're all inside this rind—and there's an identical juice that they have in common. If you were to squeeze it, you could never tell from the juice which individual seed was squeezed, could you? In the end, they blend as one.  
"An eggregore is a group of souls—a family that may not always be related by blood. But they are bound to one another as the seeds are inside the fruit—they become one. They many rivers that become a single ocean, and every drop is important and related, even if they don't realize it. And everything is in motion—members of an eggregore die, are born, marry, divorce…love and fight and co-exist.  
"Every person sitting at this table—and that includes you, Remy—is part of an eggregore. So is Elysia. So are Edo and Taisa. So was my Mom. There are others out there, too. That's why Mays and I became friends the moment he walked up to me in the quad at Berkeley when I was playing that Pink Floyd song and sang with me like he'd done it all his life."  
"'Wish You Were Here'. I'll never forget that song," nodded Hughes. "Pretty ironic, considering what you've just said. Does that explain how you and I wound up with Taisa?"  
"And Cowboy Roy and Edward both suffered so much when they split over that stupid incident with the dope dog," she laughed. "And how you flipped over Gracia the moment you laid eyes on her."  
"And how you called Remy a shithead, just like Ed says to Taisa," Alphonse smiled.  
"And how I saw your wings ten years ago and told you I'd pray for you to leave Christophe."  
Gracia looked puzzled. "Wings?"  
Alphonse passed Remy the paper. "Draw it for us. What you say you've seen over me, over Teddy."  
A few minutes later, the sketch made Hughes sit bolt upright. "Wait a minute! That's—that's—"  
"The Flamel . Our alchemic crest. Passed from Silver Steiner to his brother Gold, from Gold Steiner to Izumi Harnet Curtis, and to her students Edward and Alphonse. It became Teddy's on her eighteenth birthday. In time she will pass it to my great, great grandson Edwin…and," he turned to look at Havoc, "possibly to you, should you choose to expand your own magical knowledge. Speaking of Jean-Remy, he was trained intensely by his mother Jeanne-Marie Baptiste in a shamanic tradition very like the Grand Arcanum alchemy of Ishbal—but I'll touch on that later. Enough that you know that Remy identified us as Alchemists without knowing what we were."  
"Well, I'll be damned!" Hughes shook his head in wonder. "Okay. So we're all related. That's a given. What else?"  
This would be a little tougher to explain. "See that mirror over the dresser. Everybody—take a minute and just look at our reflections." They stared for a minute before Alphonse continued. "Teddy, remember Alice Through The Looking Glass? Gracia, did you read it?"  
"Of course. I love it. The whole idea of the Looking Glass world," Gracia nodded.  
"It's not fiction, not entirely."  
Havoc leaned his chin on his elbow. "You're speaking of parallel worlds? Something like that?"  
"Yes. Exactly like that. It's not fiction. I…I know this is hard to believe…but Ed and I weren't born here. Neither was our father. You may have heard of stories of mythical lands like Shamballa, or Avalon, or such. The harsh reality is…there is at least one parallel world to Earth. And it's not a paradise. It's pretty ordinary, really. Kind of boring. The big difference is it's not Earth—it's Amestris. It's my home. It's Ed's home. And it's a place where Alchemy is an advanced, accepted science. A place where my daughter and Remy would not have to hide what they know and study from the rest of the world. They would be respected members of a scientific community, as Edward and I once were. In fact, Ed was a State Certified Alchemist before we left."  
The pieces fell together and Hughes started to look a little pale. "T-then," he stammered, "this whole Fullmetal Alchemist thing is really—"  
-truth. Thinly veiled as fantasy. Every word of it, right Teddy?"  
She nodded. "I ghost-wrote it for Edo, but no embroidery. Changed a few names to protect the innocent and to keep the guilty from kicking our butts…but yeah. I told Edo," she swallowed hard, "I told him we had to preserve the stories. So…yeah. That's the size of it. Question is, old friend…do you believe us? Because if you go to Orlando 5, there's a fuckin' good chance you're going to see something that will scare the bejesus out of you if you don't take us seriously."  
On and on and on, for hours he talked, sometimes muttering, sometimes blurting it all in a rush. Several times the memories choked him. Relating his final hours in Amestris—seeing the child crushed in the rubble he had caused, struggling wildly as Ed held him forcibly back from trying to bring the child to life—he broke down altogether. To his surprise, it was Gracia that rose and comforted him.  
"Alphonse? I believe you, dear. I think I believed the moment I saw your brother's prosthesis. I knew it wasn't made in this world. I guess…well, maybe I needed to hear it from the beginning." She hugged the older man as she would have hugged her own father. "I'm sorry you and Teddy were so worried we wouldn't believe you." She glanced up at her husband, still looking stunned. "Mays? You do believe him, don't you?"  
"Teddy," he began heavily, pulling off his glasses, "back in Los Angeles Taisa and I got drunk as shit and my lovely wife jumped up our butts about how wrong it was that we got our happily ever afters and you didn't get shit and why didn't we find someone wonderful to make you happy. Annnnnnd….Cowboy and I thought, 'damn, she's right!' So we grabbed some chalk…went down to the basement…and just for the hell of it, we Django'ed your ass."  
Teddy put down her coffee cup with a bang. "What the fuck?"  
"We found those two arrays you and Edo were practicing with and drew a third one, right between them, touching them."  
Alphonse was stunned. "You…did…what?"  
"Well, Taisa did most of it. Then we wrote what kind of man we wanted you to find: free, straight, healthy, and financially independent. Kind, good looking to her, honest and won't clip her wings. Intelligent. Devoted. Accepts her family. Accepts her weird alchemy shit. Won't fuck around on her. A true mate and lover to her who stands by her but not over her. Someone we, her family and Gracia will love and approve of." He glanced sheepishly at Havoc. "And Gracia, Alphonse and I can confirm everything but the last qualification."  
Havoc's carrot shifted. "Which was…?"  
"Ah…well…shit. I added should have a big dick and should know how to use it."  
Teddy held his gaze proudly. "Confirmed."  
Havoc's carrot bounced across the table and landed, ironically, in Mayland's lap.  
Alphonse broke the silence at last. "Was that all you did, Mayland?"  
"Ah…no. No. Mustang got this wild idea, got some lighter fluid and—"  
"—set it on fire? Of course he would, all things considering." He rose, feeling strangely exhausted. "But before we touch on that matter, let's adjourn until eight-thirty. I'm going to rest for a—no, Teddy, I'm fine. This was not as bad as I feared." He waved his daughter off gently. The hardest part, he knew, is yet to come.  
"All right. To begin again." Alphonse drew a single line down the center of a clean sheet of paper. One side was labeled EARTH, the other AMESTRIS. "Teddy, define a doppelganger."  
"Using Alice as our model, this would be the mirror twin. Not identical, but damned close. And joined by a common thread of soul."  
"Question," Remy lifted his hand. "Say there we have you, here on earth. Say there is a Teddy on Amestris, right now. If you crossed the Gateway to Amestris…?"  
She drew in a deep breath. "We knew what happened when Edo entered the Gateway and wound up in the London during WWI. There was an Edward Elric—similarly named, we don't know the details. Not identical to Edo. Had both arms and legs, for one thing. He spoke to my grandfather—and then Grandfather was summoned to a meeting at Downing Street. Hoenheim drove away and missed being crushed under the falling debris that killed Edo's Earth self."  
"And Alfons Heiderich was shot by Rudolph Hesse before I crossed the Gateway. I attended his funeral. When my son was born, I named him in honor of my Earth self, because he was such a friend to my brother."  
"So…you're saying they can't coexist?" Remy pressed.  
"Far as we can guess, no. One of them," Alphonse took up his pen again, "has died in every instance we know of. Now, to continue," he drew a series of circles on the EARTH side of the diagram. "Taisa Roy Mustang. Gracia Evans Hughes. Mayland Alexander Hughes. Jean-Remy Havoc. Elysia Hughes. Winry Rockbell." His hands began to shake slightly as he wrote down the final name. "Trisha Edward Elric. I'm sorry, Mischief." He glanced over at his youngest child, mutely begging for forgiveness. "You too. Ed and I kept trying to tell you—"  
"That I've got a twin in Amestris? Not so shocking, all things considered."  
Not yet, Alphonse worried. "All right, hear me out. Remy, you first." On the AMESTRIS side a name was written down. "Lieutenant Jean Havoc of the Amestrian National Army. A man much loved by his comrades, respected for his loyalty and bravery. Notoriously unlucky in love. Became involved with a woman named Solaris—"  
-What the hell-?"  
"—who stabbed in the spine, severing his spinal cord. Was healed by an Alchemist but it took a very long time for him to recover from paraplegia. I am assuming he never gave up and made a good recovery."  
Teddy's lips were white. "Show him, Remy. He needs to know."  
Rising, Havoc tugged his shirt out of his jeans and, turning his back, raised it over his head.  
"She missed my spine by inches. That was the last straw. That's why I divorced her. Stabbed me with a broken wine bottle." Pulling his shirt down again, he sat down. Nobody said a word.  
"Gracia Evans Hughes, worked as a nurse. Tended Teddy Elric as she recovered from treatment for cervical cancer. Met and married Mayland Alexander Hughes and had a lovely child named Elysia." More circles and lines. "Gracia marries Maes Hughes, an army intelligence officer, killed in the line of duty, leaving behind a lovely child named Elycia. And his best friend in the world is Colonel Roy Mustang."  
"No…it can't be," Hughes drew in his breath sharply. "Taisa?"  
"Also known as the Flame Alchemist. I don't think he ever truly recovered from the death of Maes Hughes. It has been speculated, though not publicly, that the two may have been sexually involved when they were cadets. Certainly they were the best of friends. Mustang was godfather to Elycia Hughes. Mustang began drinking heavily and became seriously depressed after Hughes was murdered. And I know for a fact that he suffered from suicidal depression because," he drew another circle, "he was ordered by his superior officers to execute the parents of Winry Rockbell during the Ishballan Rebellion, for harboring insurgents."  
"The fire…he said we needed to use fire on the array…oh…oh god!" Hughes was shaking so bad he couldn't hold his cup. Gracia pulled him close, comforting him.  
"Mom…" A soft gasp from Teddy. "He killed her parents?"  
Alphonse looked at her with gently pity. "He was a kid. Barely in his twenties and threatened with execution if he failed to obey the order. After it was done, he tried to shoot himself in the head on more than one occasion—he actually called himself a coward for failing. Don't—don't hate him, sweetheart. He was a boy—and he paid for that mistake the rest of his life."  
Havoc spoke up. "And what about Teddy?"  
Alphonse didn't answer for a very long time. At last he lifted his gaze to meet his daughter's pleading eyes. "You were my mother. You died of cancer. And Edward and I turned you into a homunculus. We tried to bring you back. I lost my body. Ed lost his arm and leg. What…what we did…was worse than unforgivable. We loved—we loved you. We missed you so much, we didn't know how to live without you. So we tried to bring you back. We failed. You tried to kill us. In the end…Ed…Ed…"  
Teddy's voice was flat, drained of all emotion. "Ed…what, Daddy?"  
"Ed had to…he…he dug up your bones so he would have the alchemic materials to kill you again. And your last words—th-the last words you said to him were for Ed and I to take care of one another. And then…you were gone."  
AMESTRIS, 1951  
SNAP.  
Fwooooooosssshhh!  
"Aaaaaahhhhh! SHIT!"  
Colonel Mustang allowed himself a modest smirk of satisfaction. "Interesting observation," he wheezed aloud. "As the intensity of the pyrotechnical barrage is increased, so does the pitch of the screams on the other side of the Gateway. I'm not sure he can hear me, the smirk became a low chuckle, "but he damn well can see what I'm doing. So where the hell is Edward?"  
He could hear the voice on the other side, provided the man on the Earth side came near enough to the Array. After bruising his hands pounding and slapping at the smooth, featureless stone, Mustang became irritated and began fire-bombing the solid rock. Now that got a rise out of the other side—unfortunately it took the man days to get up the courage to return, this time with some sort of communications device, a field phone perhaps. Leaning against the stone, ear pressed flat against the surface, he could barely make out the words…  
"Ai-san! Thank god—it's Denny. Where the hell are they? Look, all hell is breaking loose—I know they know. I wish—look, can you get me Ed's number? I don't know, any number. Taisa's phone's not working. I haven't heard from Ed in days—Ai-san, I don't give a shit about Ranamuerte—all I can say is Edward Elric needs to get his ass here now. We can't leave this to Alphonse and Teddy—it's too dangerous!"  
Edward…alive. He had to lie down and rest, the news had him so agitated he could barely breathe. His chest ached so terribly that it almost seemed as if his heart was trying to stretch itself to contain such fierce joy. Got…to keep trying, got to keep his attention, he resolved wearily. If Fullmetal is alive, sooner or later he's got to come and get me. He has to take me home to die.  
And home, he acknowledged from his cot in the cavern, deep within Brigg's Mountain, was no longer a place, but the person in whom he had entrusted his heart, half a century ago.  
NOW…ALPHONSE  
"It is a good day to die."  
Nothing fatalistic in that statement, that affirmation of life embraced by the Native peoples of the land where his three children had been born. Rather it meant to drink deeply, to savor, to cherish each breath—to hold each moment as precious, as if it was to be your last.  
Because sooner or later, you'd be right.  
If they made it home alive he would cringe when he read his phone bill for that week. Ed and Taisa were out of reach—so Alphonse Elric spent much of his time contacting every single surviving friend and relative. He craved contact, he who had spent years as a disembodied spirit animating a suit of armor, his existence as tenuous as the fading smears of Edward's blood in an alchemical seal that bound him to that metal prison, dangling in eternity between life and worse than death.  
He spent hours on the phone with his firstborn, Alfons, and his elder daughter, Win-Sara. He spoke of things they'd mostly forgotten, with an intensity of emotion that made them both uneasy. His pride in Alfons' model planes and water rockets, his science fair prizes, even his Boy Scout awards of honor. He apologized to Win-Sara about the fuss he made when she got her ears pierced and the eye shadow that fell out of her purse when she was thirteen. Reminded her how beautiful she looked on Prom Night. How he always knew she'd ace that pharmacology final in med school, and how deeply he respected her for seeking to bring health care to the poorest of the poor when she might just as easily have settled into a lucrative pediatrics practice in San Francisco.  
Every grand. Every great grand. He called them, one and all, saving Edwin for last. Eddie was a bit groggy, having done a half-gainer off a ramp on his skateboard and landed on his elbow. Padding had saved him from a worse fracture, but it had been bad enough and the boy had been given a shot at the ER to ease the discomfort. "When are you comin' to sign my cast, Papa Alphonse?" he demanded. "Are we going camping this summer like you promised?"  
"Nothing but death would keep me from it, Eddie," Alphonse promised.  
"Then don't die, okay? Love you."  
"Love you too, big guy. And Aunt Tee says as soon as she's found a new guitar she likes she'll send you some files so you get to hear it first, all right?"  
"Cool!"  
"And we'll talk some more about Harry Potter." As Alice had opened the doors to alternate reality for his aunt, so Harry Potter was making the job easier for this generation. "Deathly Hallows will be out by then. We'll see who finishes first. Goodnight!"  
Hugging his pillow in the darkness, he spoke aloud to Winry's spirit, although he suspected that if Eddie had a fractured elbow she was undoubtedly hovering over the boy, raising seven or eight different kinds of hell at him for pulling idiotic stunts at the skate park, just because his friends were watching. Even so, he thanked her again and again for every kiss, every tear, every fight, every moment of boredom and every night of shuddering bliss. "Wait for me, Winry. If something goes wrong…find me. You have to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes on the other side of death."  
And, unbidden, another came softly to his mind. Small and slim, a curtain of thick grey hair gracefully coiled up and tucked with her grandmother's tortoiseshell combs. A shy smile over tea. Small, capable hands. And cats—oh, how she loved cats, even the eminently unlovable Yao. Ai-san, he smiled at the thought of her. So pleasant, taking tea with you, just talking about the simplest of things. Sharing Taisa's biscotti or those bean jam cakes you love so much. Such a gentle soul. You loved your husband as dearly as I loved my Winry. Not that anybody could ever take their places…but you make me feel peaceful and clean inside. No lingering memories of Amestris. No guilt. You are of this world, Ai-san, and that makes it easier to bear. As soon as I get—as we get home—I'll find some way to let you know what your friendship means to me.  
It was a good day to die, for the most part, because he had been forgiven, at long last.  
. "You were my mother. You died of cancer. And Edward and I turned you into a homunculus." And that…thing…that had once been Trisha Elric had evolved into the creature known as Sloth, one of a handful of surviving homunculi who fed on chaos and grew drunk on slaughter in pursuit of their own mortality. Pride. Envy. Lust. Gluttony. Wrath…and Sloth. Each a human soul, each a life-form whose sleep of death had been abruptly shattered when a foolish Alchemist attempted to return them to the land of the living. Envy, the first born—his own half brother Wilhelm, created by the guilt of his father Hoenheim centuries before when Hoenheim's love child with the Alchemist Dante had died in youth of mercury poisoning. Sloth, youngest of the brood, created by Hoenheim's surviving sons—because they missed their mother.  
And there was more—and worse. Sloth allied herself with Pride, himself ruling Amestris, masquerading as a full human with wife and adopted son, styling himself Fuehrer Bradley. It was believed that she personally instigated the incidents that sparked the Ishballan Rebellion that left countless dead, allowing the military army of the Amestrian government to lay claim to the Ishballan territories, always reaching further and further, expanding the borders, until continental war seemed less a threat and more of a promise. And if it hadn't been for Colonel—at that time Brigadier General—Mustang and Major Armstrong and Lieutenant Jean Havoc, Bradley and Sloth would have succeeded. Edward killed Sloth. Assassinating Bradley cost Mustang his health, his left eye, part of his face and any hope of ever ascending to political power—but the Colonel never regretted it. Neither had Al and Edward regretted the horrible necessity of destroying the creature they had raised from the dead and turned loose upon their innocent country.  
To have to tell such things to your own child…it was like ripping open every wound on his soul and bleeding as Ed had bled the night of the transmutation. Teddy's face had been frozen as she listened, words rushing out of Alphonse in a wave of agony, as if his heart would stop beating if he didn't tell her everything he'd held within it from the night he ignored his doubts and gave in to Edward's urgings to slap his palms down on the glowing rim of the array and defy the laws of nature, man and the gods.  
He found he couldn't breathe in the silence that followed. Then she sank to her knees before him and clasped both his hands in her own, kissing them and pressing them to her pale cheek.  
If there is any part of her—of your mother—anywhere inside me, she told him, she would tell you that you have hurt long enough. You were kids. You lost Hoenheim, and then you lost Tricia. When Mom died I'd have given anything—anything in this world-to see her again. I know how it must have hurt you both. You did what you did for love. Period. You two started it—and I'm making an end of it. I forgive you, both of you. It's done. Because the one thing that was true then is still true and always will be: I love you.  
And that, above all else, made it a good day to die.  
NOW—HUGHES  
Gracia marries Maes Hughes, an army intelligence officer, killed in the line of duty, leaving behind a lovely child named Elycia.  
"Killed in the line of duty." That's what haunted him. That's what made him change his mind. Not that he didn't love the Elrics—they meant more to him than that smarmy rat-bag of a brother and his two odious offspring. It was just that…well, damn it, he had found something he loved more: his family.  
He'd played it fast and wild for so many, many years. Teddy was a favorite playmate but not the only lover who shared his bed over the decades. Some lingered for a time, others cleared out as soon as they sobered up. Everything changed seven years ago when Teddy called him from home, giving him a royal reaming for avoiding her since beginning chemo. "What—scared to see me running around looking like Sinead O'Connor? It ain't that bad, damn it!" she bitched.  
It was Taisa that came down on him like death on Elvis, threatening to kick his ass into next week if he didn't go see Teddy. He'd made the trip, steeling himself to see his long time friend and lover as a hairless, trembling skeleton, hooked to an IV pole.  
Well, she was hairless alright, and had lost a few pounds, but her eyes were full of mischief and she was eagerly making plans about trekking in Australia with her dad soon as she had finished chemo and had gotten a few months of training under her belt. When he arrived, she was in the garden, having lunch with the most astonishing looking lady Hughes had ever seen. She had golden brown hair, aqua eyes and a thousand gigawatt smile that made him feel all warm and gooey inside. "Mays Hughes—meet Gracia Evans."  
Six months later they were married. Eighteen months after that they made Teddy and Taisa godparents—or 'godless parents', since Taisa was a non-practicing Buddhist and Teddy was as feminist in her religion as she was in her politics. He changed so dramatically that Taisa hinted archly that while Gracia was pregnant some bug eyed aliens must have slipped into the Hughes house, abducted their college roomie, shoved a probe up his backside and sucked out his brains through his rectum, leaving a vapid, grinning doofus perpetually accosting everyone in sight with cries of 'wanna see pictures of my daughter?'. "Don't know what he's got, but I plan to be vaccinated," Teddy agreed with a shudder.  
"And if I start spouting dribble like Hughes, shoot me in the head," Taisa stated flatly. Still, for all their carping they were happy for him, if slightly concerned for his mental health.  
So neither Elric was even faintly surprised when Mayland told them, "I'm out, folks. I'm sorry—god, I hate to let you down. But…can't risk it. Killed in the line of duty. I can't risk getting killed—I've got a family to think of."  
Father and daughter exchanged glances. "You owe me an iPod. Nano," Alphonse qualified.  
Teddy retreated to her bedroom in their suite and returned with a wrapped package. "Gotcha covered, Daddy. I always pay up when I loose."  
Hughes didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted. "You—you mean, you wagered on me?"  
"Hell yeah we did," said Teddy, fishing in her purse for the iTunes card she'd gotten to go with the mp3 player. "Look, I understand completely. All I'm going to ask you to do is this—if anything happens, you get to tell our family. Including Edo."  
Faced with the dangers of Orlando 5 versus the volcanic temper of the eldest of the Elrics, Mayland Hughes wasn't sure which was the lesser of two evils.  
NOW—TEDDY  
She who mirrored the cat-like independence of her Uncle Edo now hungered, as her father did, for the comforting presence of her loved ones. Her phone bill wouldn't be quite as high, but a flurry of emails were shot out across the globe to those she cared about. Her hand crept often into her father's. Elysia dove at her for extra hugs and kisses as if she knew Auntie Tee was feeling very small and alone in the corners of her heart.  
One afternoon Hughes and Remy accompanied her to a famous music store where she spent hours playing virtually every acoustic guitar in the joint until she discovered the dusty Alvarez hanging on the wall. It was a true musical anomaly—a narrow necked, electric classical guitar, stained a sweet honey gold with a graceful cutaway and a cedar top for gorgeous resonance. "Ohhh…Django would have loved her," Teddy whispered, blowing the dust off the strings and plugging in to a handy Pignose amp. "Hey, Hughes! Remember this?"  
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,  
Blue skies from pain?  
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?  
Do you think you can tell?  
Thirty one years—thirty one years since they'd sung it together the day she'd been playing her Epiphone in the quad at Berkeley. The album hadn't been out long, but Pink Floyd fanatic that she was, Teddy had to learn the title track. Even better was the lanky, green eyed freshman who sauntered over and harmonized with her on the final chorus:  
How I wish, how I wish you were here.  
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,  
year after year,  
running over the same old ground. What have we found?  
The same old fears,  
wish you were here.  
And there they had been, two more bricks in the wall, two more seeds in the pomegranate—two more lives in the eggregore, reunited once again on this side of the Gateway.  
Two of them were missing…and Teddy ached to see them before…well…before. There were no words for her feelings for Edo—he was as solidly rooted inside her heart as her father and mother. And Taisa? They had it figured out long ago. "See, the world would most likely tilt off its axis if you and I had been born into the same family," Teddy reasoned over ice cream as they scrubbed Taisa's tiny room clean in anticipation of Edo moving in while teaching summer school at Berkeley. "So, to keep the world safe, you and I were sent to different mothers of different races on different sides of the world. Nevertheless," she daubed a bit of cream enamel across the bridge of his nose, "we're brother and sister—even if we didn't share the same womb. Like it or not, you're stuck with me, Mustang."  
"I'll try not to get too depressed about that." A loaded brush flicked in retaliation over her cheek as he smirked at her.  
"Asshole!"  
Asshole, she sighed now. Why the fuck won't you answer us? No emails? No calls? No nothing? God, I'm going to jerk a knot in your ass as soon as I see you again!  
NOW—HAVOC  
"How can you be so sure, Remy?" she whispered urgently in the dark, clinging desperately to him. They were alone now. She didn't have to pretend to be brave with him. In fact, he preferred that she didn't. This terror was the truth—her truth.  
It wasn't his.  
He let her cry, let her tremble, let the fear of the Gateway consume her for a little while. Then, with gentle hands and soft, confident words, he called her back to the present.  
"How do you know Daddy and I are going to be all right?"  
So he told her about Katrina.  
Maman and Marie-Luc—he had gotten them to safety. Gas was scarce, but there were some elderly friends—old bluesmen who played at the club during the lunch hours—that were still in the Eighth Ward. He had to try, at the least, to get them out, or at least find them transportation out of New Orleans before the hurricane hit.  
They ran out of gas. They ran out of luck. They ran out of time.  
Mayor Nagin had called it 'a storm that most of us have long feared', and announced a list of 'refuges of last resort'. One of them had been the Superdome.  
Twenty-six thousand people, in the dark, in the heat, going mad from hunger, thirst and terror. People were getting murdered and raped. One man jumped off the balcony to kill himself. Rivers of shit, piss, blood and vomit. Everything he'd heard about hell as a child came rushing up, washing over him as surely as the waters burst through the levees and washed over the city he called home.  
He offered his skills to the scant medical personnel. "I'm a Traiteur, and I have a strong back," he told them. "How can I help?" In the end, they didn't care, and he held the hands of the dying, praying with them, laying gentle hands of healing on their fevered heads. Reverently closing their eyes when they died. And they died by the score.  
When he got off the bus in Atlanta to join his mother and sister, they hardly recognized him. "What happened to you, cher?" Jeanne-Marie demanded of her son.  
His light was gone, replaced by cold fury.  
He dove into restoration work. The club was gone for good. Maman and Marie-Luc were staying in Georgia. In the rubble of the clubs he met The Edge and became an activist for Music Rising, to help New Orleans musicians replace their instruments—and their livelihood. He wrote articles, hauled away wreckage, hammered, sweated and cried himself to sleep every night.  
Eventually, he became overwhelmed. Driving out to Texas, he intended to fast and pray in the desert until he found peace again.  
Instead, he got hit by a Behemoth, fell in love with an Alchemist and became adopted into a family whose whole work was devoted to protecting this sweet earth from danger it never even knew about.  
"I know…and I believe," he whispered, "because that's all that I have left. And when the time comes, I'll stand with you and Papa Alphonse and protect this world from Amestris."  
NOW—EDWARD  
"EDWARD ELRIC! You're ALIVE! I can't believe it!"  
"M—M—MAJOR ARMSTRONG?"  
It was him. It had to be. Nothing in his most warped flights of fancy could have cobbled together someone as…damn…as unlikely as Alex Louis Armstrong, the Strong-Arm Alchemist. He was too weird not to be real.  
And he was staring out at Edward through the muddy green translucence of the Ranamuerte array stone, rotting away in the cliff-side cavern that reeked with mold and echoed with the trills, peeps and basso BRAAAP-BRAAPS of thousands of toxic tree frogs, a coat of motley slime that covered the damp stone walls.  
Only…something didn't make sense to Edward. He'd left Amestris for the final time in their year 1917. It had been the early 1920's in Munich—just before the famous Beer Hall Putsch of 1923, to be exact, in early November. With a rough six-year discrepancy between the sides of the gate, that meant that it was somewhere around 2001 in his homeland. Major Armstrong had been in his early thirties. Eighty-four years had passed.  
"Why the hell are you still alive?" Ed shouted. "What year is it?" It wasn't like the Major had gone through the Gateway or been exposed for long periods of time to the actual Philosopher's Stone, as he and Alphonse had. Months of indirect contact with the Stone was the secret to their slow aging and extended life spans—it had affected the brothers on a cellular level, passing down though Alfons, Win-Sara and Teddy, who at fifty scarcely looked a day over thirty. Alex Armstrong had to be at least a hundred and fourteen if he was a day.  
"Why, Edward!" the beefy giant chuckled, "surely you realize that maintaining radiant physical health is the key to a long and healthy life—this is the credo by which the Armstrong Family has thrived for generations! Even a lad like me in his sixties—"  
Ed shook his head as if he hadn't heard right. "Sixties? What the hell are you talking about? It's 2007 —and you should be over a hundred and ten, right?"  
"Two…thousand…and seven? I'm not-wait! Let me show you." Armstrong appeared to dig in his breast pocket. "See? My personal almanac and journal." He held up a page. It was dated 3rd April, 1951. "But I'm so glad to see you, old friend! The Colonel and I have been privately investigating these two active array stones—we wondered if—"  
An ice cold stone dropped into the pit of Edward's stomach. "Th-the Colonel?" For several sick moments he had to swallow hard, as if the ice in his gut was going to come gushing up his throat. His heart began to hammer queerly and his hands sweated inside his gloves. Roy…it can't be. He died. He died and was born on this side of the Gateway. Because if he didn't—if Colonel Mustang is still alive…who has been my lover for the past thirty years? "You don't mean-?"  
"The one and only Flame Alchemist—and I don't need to tell you what it will mean to him to see you again! Why, he's been hammering away at the Briggs Mountain stone for weeks now! Last time I heard he said he'd resorted to fire-bombing it in hopes of attracting attention."  
"Briggs Mountain?" Oh god. Orlando 5. Teddy and Alphonse, he swore to himself, I sent Teddy and Alphonse straight to the Colonel! And I—we're here. God—I've got to…  
And he paused. What do I do now?  
NOW—TAISA  
Edward didn't ask him what he should do. Edward didn't give him any choice.  
Fullmetal Alchemist was not a fantasy. Edward wasn't a yarn-spinning harmless eccentric who made an action hero of his boyhood self and made a fortune off it. There were sexy PVC Edward Elric dolls for sale in every shop in Japan. In parts of Asia he was a more popular boy hero than Harry Potter—some called him Asia's answer to the Hogwarts phenomenon, albeit much darker and for a more mature audience.  
For the first time Taisa truly believed Ed's story. Unfortunately, he was forced to believe the rest of the story—the part that was told offstage. The part about Edward's return, of the consummation of his passion for his one-time superior officer, Roy Mustang—not a half-breed post war bastard of Earth, but a half-breed State Alchemist with a driving ambition and loose morals…and a secret yearning for a younger man.  
So it's the truth. Mustang is the Flame…and me? I'm the shadow. And since Mustang is waiting…I—I guess…  
What the fuck. I was a substitute for the original, the Goddamned Flame Alchemist. Well…he's got the real thing now.  
I'd rather jump than be shoved off.  
Crawling to his feet, Taisa Roy Mustang made his way to the mouth of the cave. He did not look back. As he hiked his way back to the zip line, he heard no footsteps following behind him.  
His eyes betrayed him as he rode the wires down to the end of the line. Savagely he wiped the tears that threatened to blind him. Immediately, his left eye began to burn and swell. God damn it! I touched that fucking Cane Toad! I'll be blind for sure. I'll get Paninya to get me some first aid—and then I'm sending for a chopper. He smiled bitterly. Looks like the last time I use the Elric credit card is to pay my way off this hell hole and out of Edward's life.  
For good.  
…TO BE CONTINUED…..

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

FLASHBACK: BERKELEY, 1976 FLASHBACK: BERKELEY, 1976  
"I don't care what some people say, Edo! You can't make me believe that time is linear—uh, Taisa? Could you pass the pepper? Right by your elbow, darlin'. "  
Edward Elric had been shacked up in their ramshackle two-bedroom flat for all of a week and already the dinner table conversations had gone from school and politics to…well…some pretty weird shit, as Hughes expressed it. Edward and his niece were on opposite sides of the dinner table—and opposite sides of practically everything else. "Oh really," Edward drawled sarcastically, twirling up his pasta, which was green with homemade pesto. He refused to touch Taisa's alfredo sauce due to its high dairy content. "Right, kiddo. If you're going to take a stand like this, you damn well better be ready to defend it."  
Snagging an unsauced fettuccini noodle from her plate, Teddy straightened it out, gave it a half-twist and then held the free ends together.  
"A mathematician confided." she chanted,  
"That a Möbius band is one-sided,  
And you'll get quite a laugh,  
If you cut one in half,  
For it stays in one piece when divided"  
"Cute. And for her next trick, gentlemen, she'll pull a wooden nickle out of Taisa's ear. What the hell has the Mobius Strip have to do with non-linear time?" It sounded vicious and made their hackles rise. Teddy didn't rise to the bait. "Mobius Strip: a two dimentional figure that actually has only one surface. Two worlds, a hairsbreath apart. Right?"  
Edward licked a smear of pesto from his thumb. "Go on, and for heaven's sake let's make sure we leave pseudo-scientific pop philosophers like Lobster Rampant out of this discussion."  
"Lobsang Rampa, you mean—and just because I read The Third Eye doesn't mean I endorse him, But I will quote the Gita: 'The soul never takes birth and never dies at any time nor does it come into being again when the body is created. The soul is birthless, eternal, imperishable and timeless and is never terminated when the body is terminated.'"  
"From Lobster Rampant to Baba Rum Raisin—ow! What the fuck did you kick me for?" he glared at Taisa.  
"Because you're being an asshole. At least Teddy lets you make your points before she tries to rip them to shreds."  
Ed ripped his garlic bread in half. "A thousand pardons, O fruit of my brother's loins. Pray continue."  
"Gladly. 'As a person gives up and abandons old and worn out apparel, so does the immortal soul give up its outworn bodies and accepts new bodies. She paused for a sip of wine before concluding.'For one who has taken birth, the coming of Death is certain, likewise for those who have died birth is equally certain. Nyah, nyah, nyah!" She stuck her tongue at him comically. "And before you raise a stink about bringing religion into this discussion, let me add the Buddhist perspective—that time and space are merely maya, illusion. Neither exists save that we need it to in order to keep our sanity—but it's all illusion. Time, space, death, birth-it's all the grand cosmic play. We perceive it as we do, she emphasized, "because that's what our small imaginations can cope with. The only thing that reaches to all points, beyond maya is LOVE."  
"You really believe that shit?" Ed challenged.  
"Damn right I do. You gonna fight me over this?" she countered.  
"Nope." He flashed her a toothy grin. "Can I have another napkin?"  
NOW—RANAMUERTE ISLAND  
"… And I don't need to tell you what it will mean to him to see you again! Why, he's been hammering away at the Briggs Mountain stone for weeks now! Last time I heard he said he'd resorted to fire-bombing it in hopes of attracting attention."  
"Briggs Mountain?" Oh god. Orlando 5. Teddy and Alphonse, he swore to himself, I sent Teddy and Alphonse straight to the Colonel! And I—we're here. God—I've got to…  
And he paused. What do I do now?  
Sitting back on his haunches, Ed wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Two worlds. When we passed through the Gateway that last time, bringing Eckhart and her ship back to Munich, Al and I made the decision that this is our world now. However much we loved Amestris, we weren't risking anything to go back—the cost was too high.  
And we'd settled down here—well, at least Al settled down. Took me a while longer—my heart just wouldn't let go of Roy Mustang…at least, until I found Taisa. And what I've made with him, this life we share—I wouldn't give it up for anything. Not even the Colonel, even though a part of me will never forget what we had in Amestris. His mouth was suddenly dry. Don't be a fucking coward. Tell him the truth. "Major, I need you to shut up and let me talk, okay? Just listen. Ever heard of a Doppelganger?"  
Needless to say there were no physicians on staff at Hope Springs Resort. Sunburn, indigestion and hangovers could be readily dealt with. If the guests had a close encounter with a rana muerte, well, the coroner was on speed dial. But the first aid kit was surprisingly well stocked, and Paninya had taken the International Red Cross First Aid and Safety training class and, more importantly, knew a hell of a lot about the toxic native fauna. "Biiiig sumbitch, mon? Big enough to bite ya and leave a bruise? No rana muerte, mon. Cane Toad. You damn lucky for a white boy—"  
"Half-white," Taisa corrected.  
"Where your pretty black eyes come from, yeah. And you lucky—you get to keep the left one. Cane Toad slime burns like a motherfucker, but doesn't do worse than irritate it. I'll flush it out and give you a patch to protect it. Get it checked when you get stateside. Should be fine in a few days. Don't rub it, though."  
By the time she was done he'd dug his fingernails into the cracked vinyl office chair and had nearly bitten through his bottom lip. His shirt was drenched but the searing pain had abated to a dull throb. Thanking her (and pressing a generous tip in her hand) he turned to head back to the room he had shared with Edward. "Hey!" Paninya seemed to read his thoughts. "Where's Mister Little Man? The one that pissed off McDonald?"  
"Don't know," Taisa said sharply. "Doesn't matter."  
"Do if he don't come off that mountain," the Jill-of-all-trades hinted darkly. "Anythin' you want to tell me about, Boss?"  
Mustang bowed his head wearily. "Only that the wedding is off. He's gone back to his….old Flame."  
She whistled sympathetically. "Sorry." Then she winked at him. "Buy you a drink?"  
He forced one corner of his mouth up in what almost passed as a smile. "No. Thank you. I'm packing and heading home. What's the fastest way off this island?"  
"And…that's the way it is, Major. I mean—I'm sorry that Roy—I-I mean the Colonel has been waiting all these years. But there's no way to come back without putting people in danger—that's why these little Gateways are so damned dangerous. And I think I know why we can communicate."  
Armstrong nodded soberly. "I suspected that if an Alchemist on each side of the Gate touched it at the same time, it would activate the array. Colonel Mustang arrived at the same conclusion. That's why he's been trying to attract attention at the Briggs Mountain stone."  
Ed was worried. "Any Alchemist, Major? Or maybe the thought made him queasy,—maybe if an Elric touches it on this side? It'd be like my old man to leave a bolt hole. Wonder if he was waiting for Al or me to find the stones on your side? He'd check them, see that they'd been quickened and wait until one of us came back and tried his luck to get our attention."  
"So—if I follow you, Edward, you mean if you or your brother had been on this side—"  
"—and Dad was on this side, the stones would wake up, become a working Gate, and Dad could have come home," he finished wearily. "Ohhh…shit. That's—we have to destroy these stones, Major. I mean, I miss home. I left a lot of fine people behind…" His face lit up for a minute. "Let me guess—Winry's a world-famous automail geek, right?"  
Armstrong beamed. "With her own shop in Rush Valley. She's become a master craftsman to rival Dominic Ricardo."  
Old as he was, he still colored up to his hairline. "Did…uh…did she…?"  
"No." Edward felt oddly sad about that. "And what of you, Edward Elric? Did you find Winry on your side of the Gateway?"  
"No, Al found her and they made me an uncle, three times over. In fact," he boasted, "Al's youngest daughter is my protégé. Taught her everything she knows. First Earth-side Alchemist born in the family, and she's about to start training Al's great-great grandson. So the Elric line is doing great. She and Al are the ones heading towards the Briggs Mountain Stone. Bet they've already made contact with the Colonel."  
Armstrong chose his next words with care. "And you, Edward Elric? Will you journey to the other stone and say your farewells? The Colonel…well, he's not in good health. Lungs were damaged by Bradley's sword during the assault on the palace. He has chronic pneumonia and he doesn't take care of himself very well." His voice trailed off and his twinkling eyes grew moist with emotion. "President Hawkeye and her family have offered him a permanent home in Central and are willing to have nurses assist him—but he gets furious when someone even mentions it, and goes off by himself for months at a time. At least we know where he is and have people from the local pub contact us, letting us know if they think he needs help—or if he stops coming into town altogether."  
"Stubborn bastard," Ed growled. "Never changes. But…yes. I need to see him. I need to say goodbye…and to thank him for…everything. You know." He brightened. "All right—good seeing you, Major. Give my best to Winry. But before I go, there's somebody I want you to meet, the man I'm going to marry."  
"You? Edward Elric is getting married?" Stop with the damned twinkles…jeeze! Ed groaned inwardly. "And who is this lucky man?"  
Ed glanced over his shoulder. "Hey! Taisa! Get over here! I want you to meet…"  
There was no sign of his lover. "You shit, get over here!" he snapped, feeling irritated that Taisa would just wander off while he was communicating with the Major through the stone. Huh. Off sulking, the little shit! I'm gonna kick his ass for this.  
A few feet away, a dendrobates pumillo burped shrilly. Fuck! I know those Cane Toads are big suckers. He didn't get into rana trouble, did he?  
No sign of his lover. No sign of his lover's gear or harness, either. Asshole! When the hell did you…  
Oh, shit. Armstrong and his big fucking mouth. I don't need to tell you what it will mean to him to see you again! And that touchy son of a bitch would have heard it and thought…"Damn you! Shit, I'll-MAJOR!" He dashed to the stone. "Have a good life and get this stone into hiding. Drop it in a lake, bury it under a mountain. Whatever, okay! 'Bye!"  
By the time he reached the zip line he was breathless from a dead run. Mustang was nowhere in sight. Neither was his cell phone. Back in the room. Damn! Adjusting his caribiners, he locked onto the line and jumped, vowing to skin his lover alive soon as he reached the bottom.  
Throw a few needful things in his carry on. Ditch the rest. His fingers fanned out a crisp sheaf of traveler's checks. He had his own plastic, although the ones he shared with Ed needed to be left behind. That is—after he'd bought his one way ticket off this rock..  
His cell phone was gone, flushed away. Ed's was on the bed, next to his wallet and passport. Both laptops were booted up—he'd take his, and the PSP that Al gave him for Christmas. He booted up the handheld, and checked the battery charge. Two hours. Crap. Oh well, that's the least of my worries.  
He needed a shower. He needed to change. He reckoned, correctly, that he didn't exactly smell like he'd just jumped out of the bath. Ordinarily he'd have been concerned about offending the people in the seats next to him. Far as he was concerned, today at least, they could go to hell if they thought he stunk.  
His razor. His shampoo, deodorant and toothbrush.  
Their hairbrush, clotted with mingled strands of gold and blue-black. That's when it hit him. I'll never brush his hair before bedtime again. It was their ritual, dating back to their first night together in Berkeley, when he sat down behind Edward and teased the snarls out of his thick blond hair, matted with sweat and tangled from their frantic coupling. Ed's hair became a rat's nest after sex, so it became Mustang's duty to smooth out the shining mass before they turned in for the night. And as Taisa's hair grew out, Ed returned the favor, making jokes about primates grooming each other as a social ritual. Personally, he found his long queue annoying, but long hair was a 'family' tradition among the Elric clan—and he was Elric by choice, not by birth. Hacking off his mane in the jungle was almost prophetic. Ed's got his lover back. I need to get to Tokyo and get Einstein and whatever bits and pieces that are worth salvaging. I can get Sheska to help me undo all the legalities, if there are any knots that need undoing. And then…  
And then…what?  
He could go to Hughes. He and Gracia wouldn't mind putting up with him until he made some definite plans about where he wanted to go. And Teddy—if he was feeling footloose, he could travel with her for awhile. She was done with her work with Michael Moore. Her profits from her percentage points from that damned Fullmetal Alchemist crap gave her a comfortable life. She was planning on writing a novel based on the Rockbells—he'd read a few chapters and it was starting to shape up as something hilarious. Teddy could write anywhere; perhaps they would load up their laptops and head off to Australia again. Teddy loved that part of the world, and a change would do him good.  
But it wouldn't help him forget thirty years of loving, fucking, fighting, laughing, and facing hardships together. And if he should curl up beside Teddy some lonely night, being held by her would do him good—but not as much good as it would be to hear Ed mumble and sigh as he burrowed under Taisa's arm and tight up against his side. For the better part of thirty years he had slept most nights breathing in the scent of Edward's hair and the machine oil he applied religiously to his finger and toe joints every night upon retiring. Those were the constants, and he found that if they happened to be apart for a night he was restless. Those elusive scents, evocative as Marcel Proust's madeleine cakes, gave him peace, made him grateful for what fate had given them together.  
And now it was over and done, and his face folded as the pain caught up with him. When his knees grew weak he sat down on Edward's side of the bed, pressing the hairbrush to his face and inhaling deeply as the tears crawled down his cheek and soaked his eye patch. This, he mourned, is what we smelled like together.  
Ka-TWONK! Ka-TWONK-TWONK!  
Outlook Express. Mail downloading onto his Dell. Teddy called it 'getting 'twonked'. "Twonk you when I get home," she'd tell him. Always a poor correspondent when away from home, he felt a twinge of guilt. Alphonse, Teddy and Hughes weren't exactly having a joyride.  
I have to let her know I'm leaving. Boy, she's going to shit napalm and kill Ed twice for dumping me. Bet she's already got the Colonel over the threshold of the Gate. Damn. No sense putting it off any longer. He clicked on the newest message-dated within the hour and from Hughes, not Teddy-and began to read…  
"WHERE IS HE!" Edward roared as he stomped up to the concierge's desk. Paninya was so startled she spilled her guava juice and scattered a handful of kola nuts all over the Reception Desk. "What you want, Mister Little Man?" she demanded. "Shit! Look at what you made me do! Getting' all in me keyboard."  
Edward was so angry he didn't even react to being called 'little'. "I know you've seen him—you see everything that goes on around this place! Where's Mustang?"  
She gave him the sour eye as she swabbed the desk with paper towels. "Waitin' for his chopper to take his pretty black-eye'd self back to civilization since you dumped him for another man."  
That stopped Edward dead in his tracks. "Wha-what? He says I dumped him? Son of a bitch ran out on me, and I want him back, damn it!"  
"I ain't getting in the middle of no bitch-slapatude between no two men. You want him back? You find him and tell him you're a sorry, sawed off little two-timin' skank who's dick probably ain't big enough to tickle a flea's ass."  
In Amestris he might have transmuted the reception counter into a massive, ornate cannon and she would have flown back home to Jamaica on angel's wings. Instead he gave her the finger—the metal one—and raced up the stairs to their room.  
He was primed and ready to scald the air, to rip Taisa a second asshole, right up until he saw Mustang hunched over his laptop, sobbing out loud.  
His fury softened. "Hey," he offered gently. "Don't you know I'd never leave you? Nobody can take your place, Taisa."  
His lover never looked up. "Nobody can take their places, either."  
Thirty years together and he had never really seen Mustang cry. Not like this, these raw, painful sobs that made his whole body shake. He hurried to his lover's side. "Talk to me," he murmured, lips brushing against the feverish forehead. "What do you mean, 'nobody can take their places'? What's going on?"  
"Hughes. I—I heard from Hughes."  
Ed's heart gave a funny lurch in his chest. "Oh? Ah…how…how are things?"  
Taisa Roy Mustang's next words exploded in the pit of Edward's stomach like one of the Colonel's incendiary bombs. "F-fucking Gateway…opened up. Somebody grabbed Alphonse…Teddy was…Teddy was holding on to him. Soon as they…they…soon as they went through, it closed up behind them. They're gone."  
AMESTRIS, 1951  
"Waitin' for the Valkyrie he is. And I don't reckon he'll have to wait much longer, if you follow me."  
Brandy didn't help. The village doctor in Briggs Mountain had offered him opiates to ease the worst of the agony in his chest. Laudanum had been the absolute worst. Maybe it was the ghosts of old sins that gnawed him ragged, but the tincture provoked sheet-ripping hallucinations that had him clawing at the walls in terror, as if an unseen Fury ascended again and again from the bowels of hell to hunt Roy Mustang down, to peel back his flesh, crack his ribs like old twigs and feast upon the fresh meat of his still-beating heart.  
"The Cupbearer of the Gods—she knows the stink of cowardice, can smell it in his blood. If a coward drinks from the Valkyrie's cup he poisons it for any of the valiant that follow. Thus it is that the Valkyrie transforms into the vengeful Fury, who consumes the guilty that the Hall of Heroes not be stained by the taint of the faint of heart."  
She'll know, he thought feverishly. She'll know my sins. Damn these mountaineers, with their childish myths and legends of the Hall of Heroes. Still…if this wasn't truth, what was?  
And when the night was very still and the pain was very bad, he could hear the beating of leathery wings. And he would bundle himself tightly in his greatcoat and drive the three miles to the cave, spending the balance of the night hurling bolts of fire at the translucent green stone, screaming himself hoarse, screaming for Fullmetal bear him away before the Valkyrie found him….  
NOW—ATLANTA  
At breakfast, everybody gathered in Alphonse's suite to eat and discuss how they would approach Orlando 5. "Since the site skirts right on the edge of Disney property," Alphonse began, "I've booked us a suite at the Grand Floridian."  
Teddy's forkful of Belgian waffle clattered to the floor. "Good goddess, Daddy!" she spluttered. "This is starting to sound like a really bad commercial parody. Y'know, like, 'Alphonse Elric! You've just fended off a small army of homunculi armed with red stones, trying to break through from a parallel world! What are you going to do now?'I'm going to Disney World!' "  
That was received with the same enthusiasm marking the waving of a rainbow Pride flag at a KKK rally.  
After a moment of silence, Alphonse continued. "Elysia has wanted to go to the park, and it's a good cover for us. This will give your family something to focus on, other than worry." He smiled at Mayland, hoping that the younger man would not feel guilty for withdrawing from the mission. Alphonse could understand, better than the rest of them, how a father would not be willing to risk himself and leave behind shattered family. "I'm giving Denny and Jean-Remy a set of Midland walkie-talkies—they have a ten mile signal range—and giving this one to you, Mayland. Teddy's going to carry the fourth one, although there's a chance that if we have an alchemic reaction it could short out the one she's wearing—we don't know enough about how 21st century electronic devices are affected by the energies."  
"That's why I'm also carrying a disposable camera instead of the digital. I can hand-wind the film advance."  
Gracia looked concerned. "What else are you bringing, dear? You're not going to leave your inhaler behind, are you?"  
Teddy held up a pair of black nylon hip packs. "Not a chance. I've also got a mini first aid kit, water sterilizing tablets, glucose tablets, protein bars. Daddy's got a second first aid kit, writing materials, extra chalk and Sharpies, some rough maps for us, a magnesium fire starter, LED lights. We've also got a pair of space blankets in case it gets cold, disposable ponchos in case of rain and a couple of pocket hand warmers."  
"And toothbrushes," Alphonse added. "We've pretty much stuffed our pockets. Better to have it and not need it—"  
"—than to need it and not have it, which is also why I have a Swiss Army knife and Daddy's got his Leatherman. I keep thinking of that line from 'Boondock Saints' about needing the 'fackin' rope'…so we've got a coil of that, too."  
"Don't forget the Benadryl and Mucinex," Gracia suggested. "You know what a time you have breathing when you come up against unknown molds and pollen."  
"Honey, it ain't like we're planning to go anywhere!" Teddy assured her. "We're just being good Scouts."  
NOW—THE GRAND FLORIDIAN, WALT DISNEY WORLD  
"Ted-o, this is from Cowboy, Gracia, Elysia and me…think of it as a graduation present. We want you to wear it for…well, y'know. Here."  
Anybody glancing at it would have mistaken it for a Medic Alert pendant—until they got a good look at the design. Instead of a caduceus it was beautifully engraved with the Flamel Cross. There were instructions on the reverse side:  
I AM AN ALCHEMIST  
IN CASE OF EMERGENCY  
GET ME A PIECE OF CHALK, DAMN IT!  
with love from the rest of your family, 2007  
Remy had asked to borrow it for about fifteen minutes before she put it on. When he brought it back, it was suspiciously warm around her neck. "Swamp magic?" she asked as he fiddled with the clasp, securing it around her neck.  
"Swamp magic, petite ange. Take a good thing, make it better, make it stronger. Already so much love in it. Now," he ran his fingertips down the chain to where it disappeared between her breasts, "it has mine, too. I'd feel better if I knew enough to help you and Papa Alphonse."  
She laced her arms around his lean hips. "If you seriously want to study alchemy, I can help. You might do better with Daddy and Edo. Daddy's already said he'd train you, and while Edo's amazing, Daddy studied the theory for more years with Izumi-sensei. Also—what you bring to the table, training-wise, makes you unique. Edo and I got into some epic shouting matches over our differences. But there's a lot he can teach you. You're kinda advanced, in your own way, as a Traiteur. My thought is that we need to add alchemy to your skills, not tear it all down and start over anew, which might be what Edo would have in mind…but we'll see. Once we get this bullshit over with, we'll get the three of you together and work out a game plan. D'accord?"  
The very fact that she was smiling and making plans for anything after this trip to the array pleased him immensely. Somewhere in the early hours before sunrise he had finally convinced her that everything was going to be all right, that she and Alphonse would survive, the gate would be closed and stilled and that they needed to start making plans about What They Were Going To Do Next.  
Remy had obligations in Atlanta two weeks from now. Music Rising was holding a benefit concert at Lakewood to help raise funds and awareness for the musicians who lost their livelihood and instruments in the hurricane. Now that the insurance agents had made their appraisal on the damaged Adamas Teddy was free to do what she would with the broken pieces. It had been Havoc's idea to send them to his sister, Marie-Luc, who was friends with a local sculptor. Teddy and Remy had an idea of letting the artist take the shattered remains and turn them into symbolic artwork. "I'll get some of the musicians to autograph the different sections—and then we can auction the piece off on Ebay," Remy had told her. "By the way, Bono and The Edge send their best to your Oncle Edward—they remember meeting him from the Us Festival back in the eighties. They remember that he could open a beer bottle with one flick of that metal thumb of his."  
Teddy laughed out loud. "Just don't mention that in front of Taisa—he's convinced that Ed's got a crush on Bono, just like Ed loves to rag on Taisa about Ashton Kutcher. For all they bitch and fight with one another, don't worry. Nothing this side of death is going to part those two lovebirds, even if they sound like they're ready to rip each other's throats out."  
Mayland Hughes held up fine until he saw them come out of their separate bedrooms, the father and the daughter, imposing in their scarlet coats, black clothing and white gloves, their long hair bound up in matching pony tails. Not that the menace hadn't been real before. For the first time ever, the Elrics seemed…well…alien to him. This wasn't his Ted, once his lover and now dearer than a blood sister could have been. This wasn't the wild radical feminist of the Seventies who clocked him in the nuts with a Pentax camera for outing Taisa. This wasn't the globetrotter he'd known for decades, flying in and out of his life, never touching down for more than a few weeks or months before hopping back on a plane and disappearing once again. He and Gracia had a small storage tub full of comical letters and journals she'd sent and emailed from around the world, and Elysia's room was decorated with a collection of adorable dolls Teddy sent their daughter from the countries she visited.  
Thirty years and he'd thought he'd known her better than he knew any woman save his wife. One look in those impassive blue eyes and he understood he'd only touched the surface of her. This part—the part that took up the work of her father and grandfather-this was the part of her that truly unnerved, even frightened him.  
Until she ran up and caught him and Gracia into a fierce hug. "It's fantastic!" she raved, drawing the Flamel pendant out of her shirt collar. "I'm going to cherish this for the rest of my life!"  
And she was Teddy once again. "Wellll…Gracia thought we ought to get you something as a memento. Taisa thought about the crest. The inscription," he bragged, "was my idea."  
"It's hysterical. Edo will be so jealous, I'll have to have one made for him, too. How do I look?"  
"Well…honey, don't you think you look—I don't know—maybe a little conspicuous?" Gracia suggested.  
Alphonse and his daughter exchanged looks and then burst out laughing. "In a hotel where grown adults wear mouse ears? We blend! Besides," he added, "if anyone asks, we're cast members from a new review at the Japanese Pavilion at Epcot." He produced a pair of badges he had found at a Disney outlet store, of a style no longer sold in the park. They featured Tigger and read SPECIAL GUEST, with the names "Ted" and "Al" on them. "These look so close to real cast member badges that nobody's going to question us. Besides, we're just walking through the lobby to get out to the van." There were additional badges that read "Jean", "Alex" and "Grace". "Sorry—none of them read Mayland, so we're using your middle name. And since there wasn't one for Elysia, we got her a Disney Princess pin lanyard and some starters for pin trading. Thus," he concluded, "we pass. And that's all I care about right now."  
"Unless somebody remembers that there is a real Fullmetal Alchemist attraction at a theme park—and it's at Universal Studios in Tokyo."  
Alphonse grinned at his daughter. "Well…we'll tell them we've been acquired by Studio Ghibli, then, if they're that damned nosy!"  
"Excuse us," Teddy had told them before they left for Orlando 5, catching Remy by the hand and herding him into the room they shared. Soon as she locked it, she backed him up against the door and pounced on him, standing on tip-toe to nip him on the collarbone. "We don't have time," she whispered hotly, guiding his hand under her black skirt, "but, damn it, they can wait fifteen fucking minutes."  
Less than ten minutes later, Teddy and Jean-Remy emerged, flushed, slightly sweaty and holding hands. "Ready?" Alphonse asked them.  
"Let's go."  
AMESTRIS, 1951  
It had been on the tip of Cosine's tongue to say something like you cleaned your plate like a good boy!, but she suspected the Colonel wouldn't take it with the good humor intended. She refilled his mug with fresh coffee instead. "Can I refill you plate or are you ready for some dessert? We've got berry tart with whipped cream or burnt sugar cake with caramel frosting."  
He was uncomfortably full, and truthfully half of his dinner had been smuggled into his napkin and stuffed into his coat pocket to be disposed of later. His encounter with President Hawkeye had put him on the alert—he was being watched, and it made him uneasy. Simplest way to keep down the chatter was to make a weekly trip to the pub, eat an acceptable amount of dinner, flirt a little with the ladies, gather his supplies and get the hell out of there. He had acquired a decommissioned army transport vehicle, added snow chains and used it to get around now. Hell, he mused, if it were up to Hawkeye, I'd be living in an estate house with a chauffeur, a housekeeper…and a nurse. A kind thought—but that's not how I intend to spend the balance of my days, being pushed around in a wheel chair, having some stranger recording my fluid intake and bowel movements and whether or not I coughed up any more lumps this morning—and were they black or bright red? "Wrap up a slice of that cake to take away, please, and I'll have my bill now."  
Cosine peered out the window, watching as the Colonel climbed into his transport and drove away as the snow began sifting down from the night sky. "You don't fool me none, Roy Mustang," she said aloud. "No more than five good bites and the rest fed to the dogs if I don't miss my guess."  
Her husband touched her shoulder. "We should call 'em, then? Tell 'em he's up to something?" The landlord was not adverse to phoning in the report. That Ross woman had told them they'd be compensated generously. President Hawkeye regards Colonel Mustang as a family member and is quite concerned for his well-being. She would appreciate being told if he appears unwell or behaving out of the ordinary.  
She hesitated, then nodded. After all, there was a leak in the roof that was causing cold rain to drip down on the bed in room eleven. It wanted fixing and the roofer wanted a fortune in cenz. "Aye, ring up Her Nibs. Tell her to come pick up her stray Dog."  
The Cabinet meeting adjourned with the bang of Madame President's gavel. An uneasy consensus had been achieved. Colonel Mustang, it had been reluctantly concluded, was neither well nor acting in the best interests of the Amestrian government. "He's old, he's ill, he's no longer able to care for himself nor do we believe he is thinking rationally. For a powerful retired State Alchemist with access to a potentially dangerous Gateway to another world—a world that rained unprovoked terror on our own—this situation poses a security risk. We propose that Colonel Roy Mustang be taken into protective custody and admitted to the Army Retirement Home as a resident. We also propose that the Strong Arm Alchemist, Alex Louis Armstrong, take possession of the Briggs Mountain stone in hopes of either destroying it or removing it to an undisclosed location so that neither Colonel Mustang nor any other Alchemist might be tempted to use it.."  
Maria Ross raised her hand. "And if the Gateway has been used and anyone from Earth has crossed over into Amestris?"  
The verdict was unanimous. "Terminate with extreme prejudice."  
"But—Madame President," Ross persisted. "what if it's one of the Elric brothers?"  
The President was all for offering clemency, but the Cabinet voted against her. "Then, in that event," said the President heavily, "let us hope they aren't foolish enough to try to come home at this late date. All right," she addressed the Cabinet officials once again. "Send Major Brosh and his men to the mountain and contact Strong Arm. Let's get this unpleasantness over with."  
NOW—ORLANDO 5  
"Denny—you need to calm down, son. Here—we brought you some coffee and a Danish. Tell us what's been going on down here."  
Denny Brosh was shaking so badly he accidentally crumpled the foam cup, steaming coffee spilling all over his scribbled pile of notes.  
Havoc and Teddy were chalking out the labyrinthine arrays—one directly in front of the stone, one ten feet away, using a makeshift compass of a nail, household twine and a piece of chalk. Once the circle was drawn, Teddy knelt down to fill them in with her personal array, a variation of the triple spiraled triskellion bearing the Leminiscate at its heart. "Edo told me to keep them simple and easy to draw, but I can't draw a circle worth shit so I always keep string with me to help me get the circumference right. If you study alchemy, you'll choose your own array design. Most of them are geometric. I chose the triple spiral to honor Past, Present and Future and the three forms of the Divine Mother as Maiden, Mother and Crone. The Leminiscate she indicated the stylized design that resembled a flattened figure-8 turned on its side,—is a modified symbol of Infinity…and also reminds me a little of the Mobius Strip—it represents the linking of worlds. I added this to my array when we were back in LA briefing for this trip."  
"Maybe mine should be a gator with its tail in its mouth, no?" he chuckled.  
"Ooh—definitely don't mention that to Daddy or Edo—I'll explain to you about the Ouroboros later. But there's no reason you can't incorporate an animal—I hear that Colonel Mustang had a salamander on his array. Special gloves that made a spark if he snapped his fingers."  
"What about your gloves?"  
She shrugged. "We Elrics do the hand slap to activate an alchemic circle using the arrays on our gloves and our arms as the perimeter—except for Edo. He doesn't need a circle. I'll explain that—"  
"—later, right, I get it," Havoc laughed.  
"Shhhh! Did you hear that?" Alphonse hissed, gesturing for silence.  
Denny paled. "Shit, he's about to get started for the night."  
Havoc looked confused. "But it's only—what, nine a.m.?"  
"Not on that side, apparently," said Alphonse. He nodded to his daughter. "Ready?"  
She nodded. She kissed Havoc one last time. "No goodbyes," she whispered. "J'taime, Remy."  
"Moi aussi," he told her confidently. "Denny and I will be waiting."  
"So will I."  
It was Hughes. "Gracia and I talked it over—she's taken Elysia to a Disney Princess Tea Party and then they'll go swimming at Typhoon Lagoon. We agreed I needed to be here, especially since Taisa and Ed aren't here for you two…so…"  
She nearly hugged the breath out him and Alphonse wrung his hand.  
Then they entered the array nearest the Stone.  
Gloved fingers explored the faint etchings that marked out the array his own father had carved untold years before. As soon as he touched the stone, he heard a sharp cry on the other side. "Colonel! Colonel Mustang! Is that you?" he shouted.  
With a blinding flash, the stone went from translucent to almost completely transparent. A shadow was cast over the face of the stone—the image of a tall man with shaggy hair, broad shoulders, one hand upraised, fingers poised as if to snap.  
The shadow lunged, distorted. Hands seemed to paw at the transparency from the other side. "Who are you!" a voice demanded sharply. "WHO…ARE…YOU?"  
Alphonse's gloves, now pressed to the stone's surface, began to smoulder. "I—I can't move my hands! Teddy! Help me! Help!"  
NOW—RANAMUERTE  
Hugheslineisitanyway: Cowboy, I saw the whole damned thing. Teddy stepped up behind Alphonse, put her hands on the stone, trying to pry his hands loose…and something grabbed Al by the wrists and dragged him right through the solid rock. Teddy grabbed him around the waist and tried to hold him back. It got her. Remy—I'll tell you more about him later—he snatched at Teddy's coat and it tore right through his hands. And that goddamned stone went DEAD. Solid, grey and cool. And you should know about the hands that grabbed Al-they weren't wearing gloves. It wasn't the Colonel that did it. I don't know what the fuck did. You and Ed better haul ass back here ASAP. Hate to say it, but there hasn't been a peep out of the stone since. I think they're GONE.  
Taisa Roy Mustang glanced at his lover as Edward finished reading the message—and drew in a sharp breath from shock.  
For the first time—ever—Edward Elric looked old.  
…..TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

NOW—RANAMUERTE NOW—RANAMUERTE  
"Roger-roger Rasta-6 this is Bufo-12, over!"  
"Base to Bufo-12, do you copy, mon?"  
"Paninya? Chrissakes, what does he want now? Caviar and in-flight movies? Look I told you—"  
"Don't you be talkin' like that about Mr. Mustang—he's all right. I just wanna let ya know, you've got a double fare to the airport. You copy that, mon? Double fare. Over!"  
"Double fare? You outta your mind, woman! I gotta haul that stiff to the airport. Was gonna stick McDonald in th' back and put that rich Jap in the front with me."  
"You gotta change in plans, mon—and I got the cash to back it up."  
"For real?"  
"For real, baby."  
"Wellll….I guess we could strap the body bag to the cargo platform. I mean, it ain't like he's gonna mind a few bumps on the landin'."  
Plastic cards were swiped, and within an hour two forlorn figures sat holding hands on a pair of plastic lawn chairs besides the abandoned tennis court which doubled as a chopper landing field. "Got a record number of Med-Evac flights, what with all the fuckin' ranas out here," Paninya had told Taisa when he checked out. "Skipjack—he's your chopper pilot, mon—he'll run you back to Port Norman. I got you boys on Trans-Carribe 66 non-stop to Orlando. Should get there 'bout 'leven-thirty." She appraised Mustang with lusty eyes. "You sure you and Mister Little Man gonna stick together? Why you runnin' out now? Let him piss up a rope, mon! Stay down here with Paninya—she make you forget Mister Loud Rudeboy."  
She stopped teasing him as soon as Taisa explained their hasty retreat from Hope Springs. "Brother and niece, you say? Mon, that's sad—I wouldn't wish that on nobody—not even him." Glancing cautiously to the left and right, she unlocked the drawer under the reception desk, rummaged around and then produced a tiny, squarish jar. "Here. Don't let nobody see you got this. Think you two need it more than I do."  
It was a sample of freeze-dried instant Folger's.  
WITHN THE GATEWAY…  
The moment he saw who had grabbed hold of him, Alphonse Elric stopped being terrified of what was waiting on the Amestris side of the gateway. He was, instead, furious about what had happened to his youngest child.  
He stared, almost defiantly, up at the tall man who had pulled him between the worlds. "Daddy…Daddy…why?" He glanced around him angrily. "What did you do to her?"  
If anything, Hohenheim of Light seemed more a broken man between lives than he had when he walked among the living. Alphonse…my son. My dear son. Tricia is safe, and will safely reach Amestris—but it was never my intention to lure you here. She was meant to come alone. I…I'm afraid you are in great danger, my son. There are those who would hang you for your crimes should they find you have returned to Amestris.  
"What are you talking about," his son demanded.  
The crime of genocide. A crime we share, although my sin was the greater by far. I fed on the lives of others. Those who died for your ambition died by accident, not design. But there is a reckoning, yes. You should not have come, Alphonse, my child. You must not linger. Accomplish what you must, but make haste. If they find you , they will kill you and my grandchild. Hurry! Hurry!  
"Damn you!" Alphonse shouted at the man who gave him life—and little else. He opened his mouth to curse again. A vast wave of darkness—black tentacles ending in greedy maws—swept forward through the Gate to gnaw at him, to embrace and drag him down-down-down into an all consuming universe of endless, staring eyes.  
The moment she saw who had grabbed hold of her, Trisha Elric stopped being terrified of what was waiting on the Amestris side of the gateway. It wasn't that she regretted seeing him again—but he had given her no choice in the matter. She and her father had been abducted. Much as she had loved him once, it made it difficult to trust him now.  
She could no longer see Alphonse, even though she had slapped her palms together and locked her arms around his waist, her heels dug into the packed dirt of the cavern floor as she tried to prevent her father from being dragged through the solid stone that had suddenly taken on the texture and temperature of bath water.  
Dimly, she felt someone—Remy, most likely—snatching at her coat tails, felt the fabric tear free. She understood, somehow, that there were Things That Needed to Occur and that his presence, however loving and welcomed, would only hinder them both.  
The pale hands were huge, completely enveloping her wrists. I'm sorry she was told. So, so sorry for everything I did to you…did to them. This is the only way I can make amends. It is my fault—all my fault. It began with me, with my myriad mistakes. It was I who planted the seeds of bitterness. Now is the time to set the balance right. For both of them.  
No. She wasn't afraid. She was getting angry. "Wh-what do you want from me?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief that Hohenheim had, once again, left her to pick up the pieces of lives he had shattered.  
I need you to allow yourself to be hurt. One time more. For their sake. Are you willing to do this?  
There was a deep pang inside. There was a door she had closed within herself, decades ago, in a place she refused to favor with a backwards glance. Something she had sacrificed that, for a time, made her bleed inside. That wound had healed neatly and left no scars of might-have-beens, so long as she kept that door firmly closed behind her, and as long as no-one else ever knew. "I made the right choice. The only choice. I don't regret it. But," she countered, "If the sin was yours, why must the sacrifice be mine?"  
The longing in his eyes was terrible to see. Love is the link between these worlds. You fashioned the spark of love within your body to make our son. The love you willingly laid aside on the Earth side, so many years ago, was given on the altar of Edward's happiness. The genesis of that love was born in Amestris, before your present body was born. If you allow yourself to open to the pain, to let your heart embrace the one you let go, you will join the past and the present and Edward and the Colonel will be healed.  
"That's not what I asked," she told him firmly. "Why must the sacrifice be mine?"  
Because, my dear wife, that is your alchemic gift. Not to craft stone, manipulate flame and oxygen, shape metal or lust for immortality. When you knelt before your goddess, heart full to overflowing for one who could not your love as you wished…you asked that your love be transmuted into a fitting gift that would bless and heal that man. You successfully transmuted Eros to Agape, transmuted that energy into a bridge that led Edward to Taisa. Now you must transmute your love again—and lead Mustang back to his true self.  
"Transmutation is deconstructing matter, analyzing its composition and reconstructing it into a new form."  
And what did you tell our son at the dinner table so many years ago? 'All things—time, space, birth, death—it's all the grand cosmic play. We perceive it as we do because that's what our small imaginations can cope with. The only thing that reaches to all points, beyond maya is LOVE." Matter, too, is illusion—the change is in our minds, our perceptions. To transmute love for the sake of another—that is no small art. Izumi knew this. Izumi lived this. Through her, it has become yours. I pray you use it wisely, beloved.  
"Hohenheim—"  
Equivalent exchange of love is loss. Alphonse knows this. Edward knows this. Mustang knows this.  
"And…so do I." she finished. Then she brightened. "Then—it also follows that the Equivalent exchange of loss…is love."  
Yes. Even so. And within our Eggregore love has returned to you at last.  
As much as she dreaded this, she bowed her head. "I…I can't say I understand this…but…I'll do it."  
The molten gold eyes were still mournful. Beloved…I don't deserve your forgiveness.  
One corner of her mouth lifted. "Tough shit. You're forgiven, you exasperating man. Next time we love again, if you run out on me because you're trying to cover your ass about something idiotic like a rotting body, I swear I will find Izumi and we will hunt you down and beat the shit out of you. Is that clear?"  
Y-yes, Tricia.  
"And quit feeling sorry for yourself. You fucked up. Make it right next time. Now send me back to Alphonse so we can get this crap over with."  
She glanced around at the shimmering brilliance of a thousand, thousand eyes, burning down at her like stars in the skies of a country she now remembered and cherished. A field of endless green. Soft rolling hills. A wreath of meadow flowers conjured out of a chalked circle. Fragrant petals in her chestnut hair. "Edward….sweetie? I want you to transmute something for me…a wreath of flowers…he…he always used to…"  
Get out of here, Hohenheim, a warm voice commanded. This is women's work.  
She was imposing, with fierce, tender eyes partly obscured by the serpentine braids that fell to her shoulders. A beautiful black haired child clung to her, riding on her hip, and she offered her free hand to Teddy. I'll guide you, Sister. After all, Edward and Alphonse are as much my sons as yours. And I have been guiding your studies—and Havoc's—from the beginning.  
Eagerly she accepted Izumi's aid. A slim, callused hand covered her eyes for an instant.  
When she could see again she was staring at a packed dirt floor. The air was dry and strangely musty. There was grit in her mouth, and the inside of her skull felt like someone had hammered out the curves of her brain with a ball peen hammer. Haven't felt this shitty since I killed a bottle of Boone's Farm and chased it with malt liquor after that Mott the Hoople concert in '74. Only that time, she corrected, nobody was rummaging through my pockets.  
About a thousand miles away she could hear a rasping, gurgling sound. "Mischief? Sweetheart, where'd you put your inhaler?" Slowly cracking one eye open, she was relieved to see her father kneeling by her side. She pried her dusty lips apart.  
"D-Daddy? What the fu—"  
NOW—ORLANDO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT  
On concourse C, the gate attendant remarked to her partner that the good-looking green eyed man to their right was getting frantic again. "He's here for—let me see—here it is. Elric and Mustang. Coming in on the eleven-thirty. Said there's been a death—no, two deaths in the family. Mr. Elric's brother and niece."  
"Oh, that's the bereavement fare? Right," her partner nodded. "Lot of tragedy on this flight, especially when you consider what's in the cargo hold in a green plastic bag."  
"Shhh!" the attendant hissed under her breath. "Last thing we need is CNN down here shoving cameras in our faces."  
"You mean her partner whispered back,—the press doesn't know Mister 'Fix-a-Fag' himself is coming in tonight?"  
The attendant nodded, eyes darting nervously around the waiting area for fear they'd been overheard. Rumor had it there were some paparazzi sniffing around, waiting for the body to turn up since the headlines broke hours ago that James Busbee McDonald had died mysteriously while hosting one of his pricey deprogramming seminars in the Republic of Ranamuerte. "Deny until the brass tells you otherwi—oh, shit, he's coming back up again." She turned to the green eyed man as he stalked up to the counter again. "Yes, Mr. Hughes? How can I help you?"  
Hughes consulted his watch frantically. "It's almost…eleven twenty-seven. That plane's got to be here in three minutes. Is something wrong? Is there engine trouble? Maybe they got hijacked—"  
It was an effort not to roll her eyes in frustration. Fixing on that cool, concerned professional mask she was required to wear on the job, the gate attendant lifted her hand to interrupt him and phoned in to the tower before answering him. "Mr. Hughes? Tower confirmed that Trans-Carribe Flight 66 has just touched down and is approaching the gate. Your family will be here shortly and as close to schedule as possible."  
The man grinned sheepishly and raked a broad hand through his already rumpled brown hair, lightly flecked with gray. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I've been annoying—"  
The attendant managed an air of nearly authentic sympathy."It's perfectly understandable that you're upset, Mr. Hughes, but please don't worry. Mr. Mustang and Mr. Elric will be here in a few minutes, and you've got your sign so they can't very well miss you. In fact," she glanced at the completely empty waiting area, "I can guarantee it."  
Ed is coming. Ed is coming, he'll tell us what to do. Hughes hung on to that thought for dear life. Soon as he gets here, Edward will take over. Yessir, Ed will get them back. Ted and Al will be great, just great. Just taking a little vacation in the Motherland. Ed'll do that hand slap thingie and everything will be back to normal. He rubbed his hands over his bleary eyes. Dorothy and Toto will wake up and find out that Oz was just a dream. Who the fuck am I kidding?  
"MR. HUGHES!" the gate attendant was gesturing towards the lone passengers coming into the concourse. "You're family is here now."  
Oh, god.  
Ed was leaning on Taisa's shoulder. He was ashen. When he caught Mayland's eye, his expression was one of resignation and profound sorrow. Mays' grand rescue fantasies, the ones that had inflated to Spielberg-ian proportions complete with THX sound and special effects by Industrial Light and Magic and a walk-on by Harrison Ford, were stomped as flat as one of his nephew William's toads.  
Soon as he raced up to them he began babbling like a lunatic. "It's not Teddy's fault," he ranted. "Don't blame her, Ed. It's not her fault. It was Alphonse who—"  
The expression on the elder Elric's face cut him off mid-sentence. "For the love of god," Edward growled, "shut the hell up or I'll kill you."  
AMESTRIS—1951  
His breath was coming back at last, thanks to that bitter vapor forced into his mouth. "Breathe, Colonel," the familiar voice urged him. A hard pipe was inserted into his mouth—reminded him of those breathing treatments the doctor in Briggs Mountain tried to force upon him. Whatever-this substance eased the agony in his lungs and he was grateful.  
Someone had slipped behind him, a broad chest to lean against, and strong arms to hold him upright. Voices faded in and out, like a radio signal in the darkness.  
"Colonel Mustang? Drink this—it'll help."  
The voice was low, soft and infinitely kind, and the fragrant steam from fresh-brewed coffee warmed his face. Opening his eye, he glanced up at her through the ragged curtain of his unkempt hair.  
A sweet face. Not beautiful, but the kind expression lent her something very like beauty. Smudged with dirt, small round glasses knocked askew and hair spilling in a tangled mess down the right side of her face. What he mistook for scarlet wings were the wide, tattered sleeves of an alchemist's coat. She knelt before him, offering not the golden Cup of Kinship but a plain tin mug from a soldier's kit, holding it to his lips since he was too weak to lift it himself.  
Roy Mustang stared at her, awaiting the dreaded transformation. She could read the stains on his soul. Her face would stretch and contort, leathern wings would burst from her shoulders. Talons would rake his chest open, his heart bursting in her fist before she tore it out of his chest.  
She only smiled warmly, her fingers combing his hair out of his eye, brushing soothingly across his fevered brow. "Drink," she urged again  
Something tight and brittle snapped inside him as if he'd barricaded his immortal soul deep inside, prepared to fight that Fury to the last breath. He shivered with relief. Alphonse is here, here with me at the end of all things. Alphonse is here. Edward is waiting…and the Fury has passed me by. My life, he nearly sobbed aloud, was not wasted, maybe…  
"Colonel?" The soft voice continued. "Colonel? Can you hear me?"  
The pale, wasted man broke into a genuine smile that tore her heart to pieces. He touched her cheek. "Valkyrie," he wheezed. "I'm ready to go now."  
LOS ANGELES, 1997  
Alfons, Win-Sara and Teddy clung desperately to their father, who wept unashamedly in their circled embrace. "Daddy," Win-Sara whispered over and over, "it's all right. It's all right. She doesn't hurt anymore. You've got to believe that."  
Teddy's eyes were screwed up tight against the pain, unable to say a word. Each time Alphonse moaned, "I can't let her go!" it was his children who quietly reminded him that Winry was already gone. Alfons was biting his lips to keep from sobbing out loud—not for the loss of his mother but for the obscene hissing sounds coming from the machines that kept the oxygen moving in and out of her lungs. Her heart fluttered spastically, as if it was a wild bird in a razor-edged snare and the only way to escape was to fling itself against the bars until something gave, something broke and set her free.  
"Daddy," his son told him quietly, "Mom's gone. No brain activity. No response. The only reason she's breathing is because those machines won't let her stop. Even the doctors say she's gone."  
Alphonse slumped into his son's arms. "I—I c-can't do it, Al. I can't be the one who says 'turn it off'. Even if that's what she wants."  
It was Edward who took his little brother's arm and led him quietly to one side. "Al? Remember the armor? Unable to feel, to taste or even touch the people you loved? How desperate you were to get your body back? Well, he swallowed hard against his own pain, "That's where Winry is right now. Only her soul's trapped in something worse. She's already left us. What's left is to set the rest of her free."  
She didn't linger long after the room went silent. Alphonse had ordered all the tubes and lines detached. He lay down in that narrow hospital bed and cradled Winry to his chest, whispering over and over of his abiding love for her, as his children had before he asked them to leave the room.  
Tugging the gloves from his pockets, he forced them onto trembling hands. There was chalk in his pants pocket. The question he had been asking himself from the moment he awoke from the accident was whether or not he would use it.  
In the end, he flung it bitterly across the room, burst into tears and hit the button to call the nurse who, as unobtrusively as she could, turned off the respirator and left the lovers in peace. There was just one little sigh, just as she would sigh with contentment as she nestled into his arms before dropping off to sleep each night. Alphonse kissed her eyes, whispered, "goodnight, Winry' and added, "wait for me—find me when the time comes. I love you."  
It was a long, long time before he stumbled out to meet his family. Edward took his brother's hand. "Let's go home," was all he said.  
NOW—ORLANDO 5  
Edward stared impassively at the small playback monitor as Denny Brosh replayed the events that had torn out half of Edward's heart. Teddy and Alphonse, entering the array nearest the Gateway. "FREEZE," Edward ordered, inspecting the chalk lines in front of him versus what the digital image revealed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Ed cursed, gesturing for Denny to continue. Alphonse began tracing the etched surface of the Gateway stone, the stone Edward had poured over as soon as he arrived. "STOP." The tips of Al's gloved fingers dipped into the narrow grooves and there was a faint spark, like static electricity. He heard something like, "careful, Daddy!" from Teddy who was watching over his shoulder. Al's fingers continued to trace the array, which then burst into light, changing from translucent to the clarity of old, hand poured glass one might find in antique houses. A shadow flickered across the surface. "FREEZE FRAME! Denny! Stop right there! Do you see that?" he tapped the screen with a metal forefinger. The unmistakable shadow of a tall figure with short, rumpled hair, one hand raised, fingertips together. "Damn…damn! Hughes, you said it wasn't—"  
"Watch closely, Ed," Hughes whispered. On the screen Alphonse Elric pressed his palms flat against the Gateway stone, then tried to pull back. His gloved hands appeared to be stuck to the stone and there was thin plume of smoke rising from the fingertips.  
Abruptly, his brother's hands melted into the stone, and he began to fall forward. Teddy shouted, dug in her heels, slapped her palms together and then locked her arms around Alphonse, pulling backwards with all her strength. With a rough jerk she was snatched off her feet and pulled through the stone. "If she had let go," Hughes muttered, "she'd still be here."  
Ed glared at him in contempt. "She's an Elric. She'd never let go of him. Any more than I He broke off abruptly, shaking his head. "All right," he directed his words to Denny, Mayland and Jean-Remy. "Get out of here. I've got to either get them back or go in after them."  
Only Havoc dared to argue. "Non. I'm waiting right here. I gave my word to my petite ange. She'll need me—and they may both need healing when they've returned to this side of the Gate. And you, Oncle Edward, may need another pair of hands."  
Hughes drew in a deep breath…then shook his head too. "They're my family too, Ed. I'm staying."  
"And somebody's got to keep the cameras rolling, no matter what," Denny finished.  
Taisa nodded. "Where you go, I go. Period. Don't even think of leaving me behind."  
"Funny, coming from the man who left me with the tree frogs back in the jungle," Ed managed a faint smile. "All right, damn it. I've got some theories about what the fuck happened. Denny? Make yourself useful. Put some coffee on—and let's break out the rations. I need to be fed and have caffeine in my bloodstream before we jump in any further. Because if they've gone to the Colonel, he'll keep them out of trouble for now."  
AMESTRIS—1951  
It was on the tip of Teddy's tongue to ask Mustang waggishly if maybe he didn't have the patch over the wrong eye, mistaking her for a bloody Valkyrie. No, Win-Sara could have pulled that off. Teddy didn't have the blonde hair or the height—or the sheer boobitude- to pull off anything so absurd.  
Besides, right now, she was dirty, sweaty, faintly nauseous and her glasses were bent. Heroines and Warrior Maidens were always cool and clean and stunning, even when lopping off heads. Hell, Arwen Evenstar out-rode a pack of Ringwraiths and didn't even get sweat stains on her gown. Shit, she's been hauled unceremonially through a Gateway, squabbled with her dead ex-husband—that, in itself was a mind-fuck of epic proportions—before Izumi Curtis dumped her on her ass in the dirt to meet the legendary Flame Alchemist, currently hawking up chunks of his lungs in her father's arms.  
Hot coffee, she knew, was a good pinch-hit treatment for an asthma attack, the caffeine and heat opening up the airways. In a pinch, if she had an attack, she would dive for the Mr. Coffee, or even the nearest 7-Eleven. It had the oddest effect on the old man—it made him mistake her for Brunhilde.  
Alphonse chuckled a little. "Colonel, this is my youngest child, my daughter Tricia. Teddy? Meet Colonel Roy Mustang."  
Wow. She blinked as he smiled at her again. Damn. Down, girl! Thank the goddess I didn't grow up here, or I'd have sold my soul to be a notch on his bedpost. Son of a bitch is old, wasted and half dead—but sweet Isis on ice skates, when he smiles at you like that you'd chuck your wedding ring in the rubbish tip and flip on your back, and that's no lie. Taisa's better looking—well, to me, at least—but if he'd had half this man's charisma Hughes and I would have shot each other over him—and we'd have taken Edo apart with a Phillips screw driver.  
He wasn't smiling at her when they carried him to his cot by the crude hearth set to one side in the spacious cavern. In fact, he began bitching and growling low in his gurgling chest. "Hey—just rest, will you?" she shot back. "Let the medicine do its work."  
Alphonse backed her up. "Give it an hour and rest, Colonel, and then we'll talk. Teddy? You rest too. I'll wake you both. I just want to go outside and look around, all right?"  
No, damn it, it wasn't all right—but the first rule of adventures, far as she could figure out, was that food, rest and clean places to relieve oneself are rare occurrences and shouldn't be taken for granted. Snagging a dirty blanket that was drying by the hearth, she rolled herself up on the ground beside the cot so she could hear him if he started gagging again.  
He reached down and touched her lightly on the shoulder. "It would be ungentlemanly of me to let you sleep on the ground," he said.  
Glancing up, she winked at him. "Much as I'd probably enjoy it, there's not room for me to crawl in with you. Besides, I camp out all the time. I'm warm. This is fine. Just let the albuterol do its job." Egotistical bastard, she chuckled to herself.  
"I could get very cold," he hinted darkly.  
"Ed could whip your ass for flirting with me," she countered. Obviously he wasn't serious—but it might have done the old geezer good to think she might be even slightly tempted to get into bed with him. "Ed would whip my ass for even considering it." There was a rusty chuckled above her head. "Besides," she added after a few minutes, "it would probably kill you."  
The chuckle became a snicker. "That's the idea," he told her. "Faster and more entertaining than the way I'm going now. And," he took an imperious tone, "Fullmetal never whipped my ass at anything. Ever."  
"I'll ask him."  
"Do that." All he had to do to calm down is know we're here for him, she considered, but the question is—what the hell can we do for him? If we make it back, he sure as shit isn't going to make the trip. God, she sat up and studied his sunken cheeks, he's so frail right now. But I bet underneath it all he's ornery as horse piss, vain as hell and more stubborn than any Elric born of Hohenheim.  
The single eye snapped open, alert and challenging. "You're wearing an alchemist's coat. Are you an alchemist like your father?"  
Ouch. Old bastard nailed me. "No. There's no alchemy on earth."  
"So," he persisted, "You're wearing the crest of an Elric alchemist but it's all for show?"  
Her eyes narrowed. He was picking at her now, goading her. "I mean," she countered, "I studied theory for thirty years. But there's no way to test what I've learned. So…no. I'm a student. Not an alchemist."  
The corner of his mouth quirked up in the damnedest smirk she'd ever seen. "I dare you to transmute something for me." She stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Pointing to a pile of kindling, he ordered her to bring over a stick roughly as long as her own arm. "I've got a piece of chalk in my pocket," he told her.  
"Are you trying to get my hand in your pants? You old pervert!"  
She regretted making him laugh, because it set off a painful coughing spell. She helped him sit up and let him lean against her for support. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "You're not serious, are you?"  
He dug into his breast pocket and produced a half stick of fine white chalk. "Let's see your array, then. Who was your teacher? Alphonse?"  
"No. Edward. Mostly." She pulled out her string and nail, planted the point into the dirt and measured out a three foot radius, chalking the line neatly.  
"And Fullmetal let you use a string compass to draw your array?" He shook his head. "Sloppy. Very sloppy of him."  
She shook a chalky finger at him. "Look, Colonel—if you don't like my circle, get off your ass and draw it for me!" He made a dismissive gesture with one lean, elegant hand, so she continued.  
Dusting off her hands, she crawled over to the hearth to select a length of kindling. Mustang inspected her handiwork "Hmmm. Labyrinthine. My mother would have appreciated it more. She was from Xing. Did Edward ever tell you that?" She shook her head. "She was an alchemist and my first teacher. I wasn't inclined towards the Xingian technique. Now," he gestured, "put the wood in the center, right on top of your Leminiscate—odd touch, don't know why you've got that in there—and transmute it for me."  
"You're kidding."  
His eye was piercing, challenging her. "If you've got the nerve to wear that," he nodded at her coat, "and to call yourself an Elric, then you will transmute it and do it right on the first try."  
"Fuck you," she shot back. Pissed as hell, she threw him an evil glance, then slammed her hands angrily down onto the rim of her chalked array.  
The mouth of the cavern was suddenly laced with blue-white fire Alphonse hadn't seen since leaving his native world. Inside, he found a smug, smirking Roy Mustang, hunched over but sitting up on his own. "Well, well," he wheezed sarcastically. "You just missed the Alchemy Exam."  
His daughter knelt in the dust, chalk on her knees. Smiling, she held up an intricately carved flute of a dark, reddish wood. Holding it to her lips, she breathed softly and a low tone quivered like the cry of a mourning dove.  
"Did you see that?" The young Master Sergeant pointed to a low cleft in the mountain before them. "Mustang uses fire. There's another alchemist down there with him!"  
Major Denny Brosh closed his eyes. "Damn. I was afraid of that. Hold your fire, men. Fall back. I'm going down there to check it out myself. If I'm not back by daybreak…well…orders are orders." Shouldering his rifle—and hoping to the gods that he wouldn't have to use it on an old friend, he began the three mile trek to the mouth of Mustang's lair…  
….TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

AMESTRIS-1951 AMESTRIS-1951  
In the event of his demise, there was a small bundle of envelopes in Edward Elric's family vault that were to be delivered by hand to each of the addressees by Alphonse or the eldest of his surviving children.  
Nothing posh, mind you, although the envelops were of that kind of thick, creamy paper one rarely sees anymore in a century where 'I love you' is tapped out a million times a second on a billion plastic keyboards—to people we have only met in virtual space. Cheap words. Disposable words. And as far as Edward Elric was concerned, cheap and disposable were not worthy of the handful of people he truly loved.  
The messages were brief, scrawled in expressive script with a fountain pen nearly a century old—it happened to be in his pocket when he passed through the Gateway the last time. They were sealed with wax, the old fashioned kind—dark red, brittle and imprinted with the family crest. Those seals were not meant to be cracked open during Edward's lifetime for one reason only: because Edward couldn't bear facing anybody to whom he had revealed his unguarded emotions , save Alphonse and Taisa.  
They gathered dust in the Elric family vaults in Los Angeles. Other than Alphonse and Taisa, the only other person who knew of their existence was Mays Hughes, the Elric family attorney.  
There was no money tucked inside—no treasure maps or tantalizing clues of where rare alchemical tomes or caches of gems might be stashed away. Each envelope contained a line or two—no more than a paragraph at best. They were precious because, truth be known, they contained bits of Edward's heart.  
He'd spent hours crafting these notes, alone in his study in Tokyo when Taisa and Al were asleep. More than a few of them brought tears to his eyes, roughly knuckled away. If he had been there when the contents were read by each addressee, he would have seen them weep—and that would have been embarrassing. Thus the directive to keep them sealed in a vault until such time he would be out of the way and unreachable for comment after opening.  
Two of the envelopes were gone, transferred to the pocket of Alphonse Elric, in the event of…well…in the event. If something went wrong, Ed wanted Al and his niece to know what they meant to him.  
Likewise, Teddy Elric carried a few digital pictures in her pocket, taken before they all parted ways in L.A. If something went wrong, she reasoned, if she faltered in any way, all she need to do was gaze at the faces she loved best in both worlds to remind her that the sacrifice of her own life was worth protecting these people and the world that gave them birth.  
The third of three alchemic tests had been accomplished and graded by Colonel Roy Mustang. A stick of kindling had been transformed into an ornately carved flute. A bracelet Teddy wore since high school was reshaped into a silver Flamel cross on a simple chain, which Alphonse now wore with pardonable pride. And a chunk of impure raw quartz hacked from the cavern's wall shimmered on the palm of Mustang's glove, transformed into a flawless sphere of polished crystal. "Hmmm. Metal, wood and stone. Your array is awkward to draw and use—I would avoid spirals and switch to simple geometric forms. I don't ever want to see you use a string compass again, not if you have to spend the rest of your life practicing your circles. The array on your gloves is more than adequate if you must have the spirals. You need to be fast, efficient and accurate. That said," he glanced from the crystal to Alphonse, "I give her good marks for a beginner. Had she been born here I'd have recommended that she study Xingian Rentanjutsu. Possibly Grand Arcanum, if you could find an Ishballan who would admit that such a thing exists. Amestrian Alchemy is not always suited to every temperament as it is to mine and yours, Alphonse. In any event," he turned his eye to Teddy, "if the coat fits, wear it. And now, if you don't mind," he eased himself back down onto the cot, "this has wearied me beyond belief. If one of you would do the honors and refill the coffee pot, I'd be grateful. There's not much food—but help yourselves. I haven't had much appetite of late."  
Alphonse poked his finger into a pot of thin broth that looked like it had never been touched once removed from the fire. It was virtually tasteless. He glanced over at his daughter. "Do something with this, will you? It's barely more than water." He scrounged around the storage bins but they were largely empty. No wonder Mustang was wasting away, if he wasn't bothering to nourish his body.  
In the end, neither Elric found anything to cook and resorted to eating the protein bars Teddy had stashed in her kit. She offered one to Mustang, who just waved it away. "What was that medicine you gave me?" he wanted to know.  
"Albuterol. It's called a rescue inhaler. Looked like you needed it," Alphonse replied.  
"Ironic." Mustang smiled faintly, eyes closed. "Ironic and appropriate, all things considered."  
Alphonse caught his daughter's attention. A faint shake of the head warned her not to say anything. "Colonel," he began cautiously. "You haven't asked about my brother."  
Mustang didn't move. "No point. You're the answer."  
"What do you mean?"  
"To my questions. He sent you to rescue me. That's obvious, or you wouldn't be here. And as soon as I've rested a bit longer, we can go."  
Alphonse was taken aback by that statement. "Go….where?" he asked.  
The lone eye opened. "To Edward, of course. He's waiting f-for—excuse me." Propping up on one elbow, the Colonel turned his head slightly and coughed into his handkerchief, already stained with dried blood. Wiping his mouth, he gestured feebly towards his canteen, asking for water. Teddy held it to his lips but he took no more than a mouthful before waving it away.  
Getting his breath back, Mustang continued. "Not contagious. You're in no danger of exposure. Old scar tissue from where Pride stabbed me in the lungs. Never really got over it. Pneumonia. What do they call it? The old person's friend? Friends like this," he smirked slightly, "I could have well done without. Once Armstrong told me the Liore stone was responding, I knew damn well if I kept trying to trigger this one he jerked his head in the direction of the flat array stone towards the back of the cavern,—that sooner or later Edward would come for me or send someone to get me." He tucked the bloodied handkerchief neatly into his pocket. "My theory was correct, apparently."  
"Your theory was dead wrong," Teddy countered. Alphonse shot her a cautioning frown. "Uncle Edo didn't trigger the stone. My grandfather did it from the Gateway. Edo and Taisa were checking out the other stone, but since this one was making all the fuss he sent Daddy and me here. He was worried somebody from Amestris would try to cross over. We were sent here," she concluded, "to stop 'em. With our lives, if necessary."  
Alphonse sighed heavily. He hadn't wanted to go into this with the Colonel, but there was no real way around it. "My father Hohenheim. He said he did it for Edward. We were investigating the array stone and Hohenheim pulled us through and brought us here. I-I'm not quite sure what he—what is it, Teddy? Do you know more about this than I do?"  
She looked reluctant to say more. "No. No. Not that made any sense. But he did say it was to help both Edo and the Colonel. That it was necessary for us to be here, in this place and time."  
Alphonse shook his head. "Not me—you. That's what Daddy told me. Taking me was the mistake. He was after you, and he told me that I was in great danger. That I needed to do what needed to be done and get out, that somebody was trying to kill me."  
Mustang bolted upright, his ashen face now flushed with emotion. "No…I can't believe…she wouldn't do that. She'd never do that. I couldn't forgive her if she did and she knows that."  
"What do you mean?" Alphonse demanded. "Who are you talking about?"  
"President Riza Hawkeye. Why would she want to harm you?"  
Mustang and Teddy stared at the alchemist who seemed to have been struck dumb for several moments. Sucking in a deep breath, he stuttered out Hohenheim's accusation. "I…I've committed genocide, apparently. Seems I'm to hang for my crimes. If they catch me."  
Teddy went to his, slid her arms tightly around her father. "For what, damn it? Because of the Gateway you and Wrath created?"  
Mustang shook his head. "You weren't there. A lot of lives were lost, even if it was by accident. Hawkeye was here awhile back. She questioned me about this array stone. I suspect either she or her advisors have determined I need to be put out to pasture so I won't be tempted to trigger the gate and let the people of earth back to slaughter more of our people." He looked genuinely angry now. "Well, I won't let them take me. I'm going to wind up in some army hospital, locked in a ward and strapped down in my bed. Even if that's not what Hawkeye would order. They—they think I'm out of my mind. All the more reason," he stared intensely up into Alphonse's face, "for you and Trisha to get me the hell out of here as quickly as you can. You stay—they try you for war crimes. I stay—I'm facing something worse than death. Although if she stays," he nodded towards Teddy, "she'll have the opportunity to be an Alchemist for real. I can see that might be tempting."  
"You're right," Teddy admitted, "but everybody I love is on the other side."  
Alphonse laid his cheek against the top of her head. "Has to be your choice, Mischief. I can't make it for you. Think what you could accomplish if you remained in Amestris."  
They were right. Damn it, it was an exciting thought—and the sweet rush of power that arced through her as her array quickened under her touch had easily been the most satisfying moment in her half-century of life. Hastily she shook her head. "Can't do it, Daddy. I won't leave you and Edo—he's gonna need me to help train Edwin. And then, there's Remy," she colored slightly. "And Taisa and Hughes would be pissed as hell—"  
"HUGHES?" Mustang interrupted sharply.  
"Mays Hughes. We've been friends for years Before Alphonse could stop her, the words tumbled right out. "Hughes and Mustang and I lived together for years, back when we were students, and we've been close for three decades."  
Soon as she realized what she had blurted out, Teddy slapped her hands over her mouth in horror.  
The Colonel lurched to his feet, swaying slightly. "Hughes," he gasped. "Mustang. Is she…telling me that I…I. he fought for breath,—that there's a Colonel Roy Mustang in your world?"  
Alphonse's head dropped in defeat. "Go on," he told his daughter. "Show him. I know you have the picture in your pocket."  
Inside the pyrotex gloves, the Colonel's fingers turned icy cold as he inspected the digital printout Gracia had taken in Los Angeles. "Hughes," he whispered. "Alive." And smiling. One armed draped over Teddy's shoulder, the other wound around a tall, lean figure with skin the color of pale amber, slanted black eyes and a wealth of straight black hair combed back from his forehead and captured in a silver ring, pulled to one side. The tall man was smiling warmly down at the small figure directly in front of him.  
There was no trace of gray in the thick blond ponytail that fell past his shoulders. Keen golden eyes peered out behind rimless glasses that framed a face scarcely etched by the lines of Time. Small and spare. Sharp featured. Arms folded against his chest, hands shoved into white doeskin gloves. His expression was an odd mixture of smugness, pride and mild annoyance, as if he'd been pulled into the group against his will and was perhaps plotting some form of pleasant revenge against the man behind him.  
He'd been ashen before. Now he was damn near transparent. "Fullmetal," he muttered, over and over. "Fullmetal…no wonder….no wonder you never came for me." His head sagged against his chest, and if Alphonse hadn't been close enough to catch him he would have dropped to the ground from shock.  
"Go to hell," he rasped as soon as he could find his voice again. "Both of you. Go home."  
"The hell I will," said Alphonse Elric, sounding eerily like his elder brother. "With all due respect, Colonel, shut up and listen to me..."  
NOW—ORLANDO 5  
It took nearly half an hour for Denny to grasp what Ed was trying to explain to him. "Jeeze…call yourself a rocket scientist. Swear to god, I've got a koi in my pond whose smarter on the uptake than you are, Brosh." He turned abruptly to Jean-Remy, spooning sugar into his coffee. "Havoc. Still hard to believe you're here, much less that you've hooked up with my niece. Guess you can't be a fuckin' loser every lifetime."  
Havoc grinned and lifted his steaming cup in salute. Hughes leaned in, snagged a donut and voiced the obvious. "So if Al and Teddy bring Mustang through the Gate, there's a damn good chance that either the Colonel or Taisa—"  
"—will die. Right. And I'm not going to risk losing you," Ed stated flatly, his hand briefly touching Taisa's arm. "It's simple. They can't bring him here. And," he added softly, "I can't go back. Somehow," he concluded, "I've got to get that through to them."  
"He's a master Alchemist, non?" Havoc pointed out. "You think he will put up a fight if they try to leave him behind?"  
"I don't think you can rule it out. I mean," Hughes nodded apologetically to his friend, "stubborn as you are, he's likely to be twice as bad."  
"Or worse," Taisa agreed. "If somebody tried to keep me from Ed. Especially if he's been waiting like you were waiting," he added to his lover.  
"But—forgive me, my friend," Havoc insisted, "remember how badly you say you reacted when you learned that there was another Roy Mustang? You said you were so devastated you were ready to walk out on Oncle Edward for good. Might not the Colonel react the same way if he learned of your existence?"  
Ed fiddled with the handle of his coffee mug, not wanting to follow that line of logic to its conclusion. His temples began to throb. Think how much he meant to you, he nagged himself. How it would have hurt if I had learned he had gone off and forgotten me, had found somebody to settle down with when I was waiting fifty damn years for him to come over and find me. He glanced at his lover, whose shorn black hair and bandaged eye gave him an uncomfortable resemblance to the Flame Alchemist. But there's nothing that can persuade me to risk Taisa. Not even the Colonel. "Whatever I decide, somebody's going to be hurt. Because if I don't find a way to stop the Colonel from crossing the Gateway, somebody is going to die. I don't see any options, other than telling Roy to stay the hell in Amestris. And," he sighed, "I hate like hell to think what that's going to do to him. But….there's no other way."  
He rose heavily and confronted the stone. "Major Armstrong and I guessed that if an Elric touches these…these…Hohenheim stones, they wake up. And I'm guessing that if an Elric touches the stone on each side at the same time, the Gateway opens. If I start to work on this stone, Teddy or Alphonse will eventually investigate. If the stone goes translucent again, I should be able to tell them to touch it with me and when the Gate opens I can pull them free."  
Denny cleared his throat in the uncomfortable silence that followed. "So…if that's the case, who triggered the stone if you were in Ranamuerte and Teddy and Alphonse were on this side? Are there any Elrics alive in Amestris, that you know of?  
Ed whipped around and stared at Denny, eyes wide. "No…" he answered intently," but…and this is a long shot…there's at least two Elrics in the Gateway we've not yet seen as Doppelgangers."  
Taisa looked puzzled. "Who, for god's sake?"  
"Dad for one." Ed looked worried. "Then there's my older brother, who would be rotting in hell if there was any justice in this universe."  
"Older brother?"  
"Envy."  
WITHIN THE GATEWAY…  
It is not in the habit of an Alchemist to remain idle, even in death.  
Dante festered in madness. She had lost her precious host bodies, her eternal life and her lover, not to mention that lover's beautiful young son. There were veils and layers of illusion that had prevented her, thus far, from reaching Hohenheim. Her son, on the other hand, had no interest in biding his time between the worlds. Envy had plunged into the flesh. Harmless, for the moment, he had not yet interfered with his brother's life.  
Hohenheim of Light, on the other hand, stumbled from disaster to disaster, always apologizing, always leaving a tangle of misery in his wake which some older, wiser soul would reluctantly unravel and set to rights.  
That older soul was mother to his younger sons in all but flesh. For love she had forsaken the desire of flesh and gross matter—she could guard and guide Edward, Alphonse and their loved ones far more effectively from this side of the Gateway.  
The father of the Elrics had blundered and wounded once more.  
Now it was up to the mothers to do the mending…  
AMESTRIS, 1951  
There were, as Alphonse had discovered about thirty years ago, distinct advantages to an exceptionally long lifetime. The most convenient of which was what he liked to think of as 'selective forgettery'. When you've outlived the people that caused you pain, it's easier to wad those memories up like used Kleenex and toss them in the bin. Once done, Forgiveness was able to slip in unobtrusively and begin knitting up the snags and tears in the spirit. Eventually, you casually examine whole cloth of your life and think, wasn't there a wound here? Funny. Doesn't bother me anymore.  
That's how it was for Alphonse. In Ed's case, not only did he nurse his grudges, he potty trained them, raised them through a rocky adolescence and then put them through college. By the time Ed was 102 there were only three things that were guaranteed to keep his heart beating another day: his love of Alphonse and Al's descendants, his devotion to Taisa, and the profound belief that he was not only right, but would live long enough to get even. The fact that most of Edward's enemies had fattened the ancestors of today's churchyard worms hardly mattered.  
Ed's anger might keep him alive longer—but Alphonse would undoubtedly die the happier man, although there was one gaping hole that Time and Forgiveness could not mend for him: his overwhelming fear of Death since his return to flesh.  
Not his own death, mind you. In good time, he knew, he would simply stop. He embraced no particular creed that road-mapped the Hereafter for him, although he suspected his soul would join those of the Eggregore who had not yet taken birth on either side of the Gateway. He had lived a long life. He suspected it would be far longer than either he or Ed would have anticipated. His biggest problem was his altogether unreasonable desire to leave first, before Ed, most certainly. Before his children, most definitely.  
That his Winry had been the one crushed on impact had been unbearable. Her body, still sweet to him in spite of wrinkles and silvered hair, simply could no longer house her restless spirit.  
Alphonse refused to let her go. She had to linger, to stay by his side until it was his turn. His son tried persuasion. Win-Sara wept and pleaded. Teddy exploded, so furious and frightened for her mother's trapped soul that she screamed at her father, fists flailing until Edward and Taisa literally dragged her away. She had crumpled in the chapel, clinging to her uncle in tears until he had quieted her. "I understand. I know…I know," he murmured with rare gentleness. "If you promise me—swear to me now, Teddy!-promise me you won't try to interfere if he won't agree…I'll do what I can to talk him into letting Winry go, okay?"  
At the end of it, the family closed ranks in its grief. Winry was released at last, but Alphonse had not changed his mind. From that day on he watched his friends and loved ones with anxious eyes, unable to bear even the thought of one precious life cut down before its appointed time—after he went first.  
And, in spite of the decades and distance between them, he numbered Colonel Roy Mustang among those whose light must not be extinguished one moment too soon—even if it meant he must remain imprisoned in a body that was falling to pieces before Alphonse's eyes…  
"Go to hell!" he had rasped, chest heaving as he struggled for breath. "Get out of here. Go home!"  
"No," said Alphonse Elric. "Shut up and listen to me. Teddy, give me a hand." There was a rough-hewn bench before the fire pit, long enough to seat the three of them. Alphonse caught the retreating Mustang by his spindly shoulders and forced him down onto the bench. The fact that he wasn't immediately reduced to cinders convinced him that Roy was hurt more than angry. Straddling the bench, Alphonse folded the dirty blanket from the hearth pallet in thirds and laid it on the bare wood as a cushion. He gestured for Teddy to help Mustang to turn to face him. She settled in behind him, letting him rest his weight against her side, one arm around his chest to help him remain upright.  
"Give me the picture again—no, Colonel! You're going to look at this, damn it. Because that's not him…that's you. You…and Maes…and Edward. Together. All three of you." Alphonse pressed the photograph into Mustang's hands. "This is your family," he told the old soldier earnestly. "These are the people who love you—and not all of them. There's Teddy and me—and Alfons…and Win-Sara…and Gracia and Elysia…and all the grands and great-grands…and Ai-san. You always bake your special biscotti or tea cakes or cinnamon rolls so that when she takes her tea breaks she's got a treat you've made for her."  
Mustang stared dumbly at him. "Ai-san? Wh-who is…?"  
"She's this sweet lady who takes care of the house for Daddy and Edo," Teddy told him, smiling at her father. "Even though Einstein nearly gave her a heart attack when he dove off the book case and landed right between her boobs," she chuckled. "Your pet is a real pervert, you know that?"  
Thoroughly bewildered, Mustang stared from father to daughter. "Pet? What is she talking about?"  
Relieved that Teddy was buying him time, Alphonse rose to make a fresh pot of coffee—clearly the only thing Mustang was able to keep down, if his wasted frame was anything to judge by. "Better start from the beginning, Mischief. Tell him about Berkeley…"  
He was lying between them now, the filthy blanket padding his thin hips from the rough bench, breathing slow and listening with rapt attention as father and daughter spun tales of Taisa and Ed, from their awkward beginnings in the back seat of Teddy's van to their unintentionally funny emails from Ranamuerte. "So you were going nuts from caffeine withdrawal, jet lag and low blood sugar…and the tour guide gave you some of these kola nuts that more or less pushed you over the edge…and there were these colorful poisoned frogs that you couldn't stop staring at…thousands of them, crawling up the walls and croaking in the showers," Alphonse was laughing in spite of himself.  
"Oh, and don't forget about McDonald!" Teddy cut in. "This lunatic makes his money off of telling men who love men that he can cure them—"  
"Bah! What's the harm in that?" Mustang demanded querulously.  
"Not a thing, Roy," Teddy assured him. "But he started bothering you and Ed, so you decided to play a little trick on him. You called him on the phone—"  
"—I'm not sure how you got the number, but Ed said this was your idea—"  
"And…and you st-started…oh, goddess! You started moaning…"  
"—panting and snapping your belt like a whip—"  
"—and Edo started making these squelching noises w-wi-with his h-hands…like—"  
Teddy was laughing so hard she didn't notice that Mustang had eased himself down a little, so that his head lay over her heart, the back of his scrawny neck cozily nestled between her breasts. Her arms were around his waist now, her fingers unconsciously stroking the backs of his chilly hands. When the subtle change of position dawned on her, she felt her heart give an odd lurch as her pulse began to accelerate. She tried to focus on the stories Alphonse was now relating about their currently life in Tokyo, including Einstein's ambush of Ai-san and the exploits of Yao and the fish pond, but he was caressing back, fingers lacing sensually through her own. The roughened tip of his index finger traced the fine line of the vein just inside her wrist and she turned her head abruptly so that Alphonse could not see the color rising in her cheeks. She found her face pressed into his unkempt graying hair. He smelled of sickness, of rot and age and blood. She did not turn away.  
I need you to allow yourself to be hurt. One time more. For their sake. Are you willing to do this?  
Was this what Hohenheim meant? She had agreed, hadn't she? Was this why her body was responding to him, even in such a state of decay?  
When was the last time you were held? she wondered. Who was the last person to touch your body with anything other than clinical interest? Her eyes began to sting. Was it Edo? My god…how long have you been alone? Unconsciously, her body arched just a little, pressing closer to the dying man.  
He shivered. Then he slowly guided her hand inside his jacket. Inside his shirt. Over his heart. His skin was too cold. The muscle had all but wasted away, leaving a veneer of flesh and scar tissue over bone. Like he's been burning from within, melting away where nobody could see…and nobody cared. And yet, when the tips of her fingers brushed feather light against his nipple he glanced up at her through the ragged veil of his hair, telling her without words that it was good…and to do it again.  
She wrenched her attention away from her own emotions and her father's ramblings seemed to fade back into her ears like a distant radio station shifting back into receiving range. "…there's so much to look forward to, Roy. So when your time comes…you know…whenever…you'll have a family waiting to welcome you when you take birth again." He hesitated, looking embarrassed, as if the discussion of Mustang's impending death made him distinctly uncomfortable.  
Roy sat up a little, pressing Teddy's hand firmly over his heart. "I'm not sure what you mean when you say 'whenever', Alphonse. My 'whenever' is now."  
Something about Mustang's resolute tone made something cold and uncomfortable crawl in the pit of Alphonse's belly. He swallowed hard. His lips folded and he bit them, harder than he meant to. Looking to his daughter, he sought confirmation. Roy would live out his days, he reasoned. They would find someone—maybe Armstrong or Hawkeye's family—to look after Roy with dignity. With respect. With bed rest, maybe, he could get a little better. Maybe the pain would ease…  
Mustang divined his thoughts and shook his head. "I'm going now, Alphonse. I'm going to Edward. I-I don't think I'll survive to reach the other side to say goodbye. That's all right now. You and Trisha," he touched Teddy's cheek, "tell me there's a welcome waiting for me when the time comes. Far as I'm concerned, that time is now."  
"NO!" Alphonse began to sweat, his voice rising, sounding eerily like the young boy who screamed and struggled in Mustang's arms when Edward tried to leave without him in 1917. "I won't do it! That—that's murder! You could still—you could—"  
"I could what, Alphonse? Spend another night gagging up lumps of blood from my lungs? Hurts so bad you'd think Bradley broke off his blades in my chest. Look at me. This isn't a body—it's a prison. It's not your place to keep me in here."  
Alphonse stiffened. "I won't help you," he cried. "I won't take you through the Gateway!"  
"No?" The Colonel smiled up at Teddy. "She will, then."  
About a quarter of a mile and the pathway to the cavern's mouth curved gently. "There are things Trisha and I need to discuss. I want you to go to where the transport is parked and wait for her. If she doesn't come for you in two hours, you can return. But this," Mustang stated firmly, "is absolutely essential for her training. Now go."  
And he went, sick at heart, feeling for the first time in his very long life that one of his own children had stabbed him in the back. Mustang was right—Teddy was going to do it, would help him die trying to get to Edward, whether her father wanted it or not. If he had fought her, even a little bit, he feared, she would have brought up Winry. He could still see Ed and Taisa, pulling at her arms as she swatted at him, hysterically screaming at him, begging him to let Winry go free. She loved Taisa fiercely, and judging from the subtle caresses he tried not to notice, she was obviously transferring some of that devotion to the Colonel.  
Or…maybe he was being unfair. She loves Remy, he thought wearily, but he is on the other side of the Gateway…and Roy needs her, somehow.  
Maybe she was his Valkyrie after all…  
In the fall of 1975 Teddy Elric and Mayland Hughes were headed across campus in the dark after watching a film festival at the Berkeley student center. Crossing through the shadows, they skirted between the dorms, taking a short cut to Teddy's van, Arlo, parked off campus.  
There were muffled cries, grunts and barks of raucous laughter. A pool of light spilled beside the Athletic complex. An angry knot of men were driving their fists and feet into a slim Asian boy, face already bloody. At that point the lacrosse players hadn't yet decided if they were going to beat him senseless or have a go at the little Jap faggot. Somebody produced a wine bottle. Spitting on the neck, they held it up to his face, rubbing the neck lewdly. Somebody clawed at his belt—and as he realized what was about to happen to him he began to scream, just as loudly as they wanted him to…but that wasn't likely to save him.  
What did save him was a howling whirlwind of a boy, taller and broad chested and swinging something in swooping arcs above his head. Rushing behind, shrieking curses, was someone who kept flashing a brilliant light into the faces of his attackers. He was dropped to the ground as they abandoned their prey.  
"Oh, god—Mays! His poor face!" Someone with a soft voice was kneeling in the alley, gathering him up and cradling him close. "Jesus! We've got to get him to the hospital!"  
"Hey…hey, man! You're safe! Christ, those pigs were whaling the shit out of you! You okay?"  
He wasn't then but he would be. After a trip to the infirmary, a conversation with the campus police—the girl had been using a flash camera in the alley and had plenty of damming photographs for evidence—a shower and a bowl of hot soup, he found himself in a pair of oversized sweats, tucked into a comfortable bed. The girl checked in before he fell asleep, her hand gently sweeping his hair back from his forehead before stooping down to kiss his bandaged cheek. Compassion, righteous anger and the sight of his bruised face, fine featured and elegant in spite of his injuries, sparked the first stirrings of Eros in the heart of Teddy Elric for Taisa Roy Mustang.  
Eight months later she went on a Women's Retreat on the bay. She knelt before a fire, laying an offering of red and white roses across the cinders. "Change me, change my heart," she chanted. "Transform this love…transmute it…give it to Edo…from lover to brother…change me…change my heart…" Thus it was that Eros was transmuted into Agape. Love of the body, transmuted into the love of the spirit, a love not bound to body or gender. A love that made the heart unbreakable.  
Thirty-one years later…Love was transmuted for the third and final time.  
Eros. Love of the body  
Agape. Love of the spirit.  
Caritas, the third transmutation. Compassionate love. Love that is bound by no time. No gender. No age. Love that seeks nothing, does not care if it is returned or even if there is wounding. The love of the empty cup, that fills and gives forth and never fails.  
The love of Izumi Curtis for her children's children. For the other mother—the one who bore them, now reborn as one of those children. "Get out of here, Hohenheim. This is women's work."  
Between the Gateway's infinite portals, Izumi Curtis slapped her palms together and turned them outwards.  
One arc of power reached into the Fullmetal Alchemist.  
One arc of power reached into his protégé.  
Edward turned to Taisa. Embraced him with Eros.  
Tricia turned to Roy. Embraced him with Caritas.  
Izumi Curtis became a living bridge of light between the worlds. Tricia…open the doorway…NOW…Edward! Hurry…you must hurry…  
THIS IS A TIME THAT IS NO TIME. THIS IS A PLACE THAT IS NO PLACE, she tells us. ALL THAT EXISTS IS HERE AND NOW…AND LOVE IS THE BRIDGE…  
EDWARD orders Remy, Hughes and Denny Brosh out of the cave at Orlando 5. Unable to stop himself, he flings himself at Taisa, pulling him down into the dust of the spiral array before the stone. Starving…he is ravenous for his lover, hurriedly tugging off his boots, almost breaking the buttons off his jeans in a mad fever to stroke and consume that precious skin…"Ashiteru…Taisa," he whispers. "Mustang…"  
TEDDY sees only beauty in this wasted man, ashen skin warmed in the flickering glow of dying embers. In his many, many years he has been gazed upon with hunger, greed, envy, need, lust and pride—by many women and not a few men. Each touched him for the quenching of their own desires or the feeding of their egos.  
SHE touches him with reverence, as if there is a truth to be learned and a blessing to be received with each kiss she presses upon his slight body, burnt to all but ashes under the skin. Sickness and death have done their work, reducing Roy Mustang to the bare essence of spirit and flesh. The ribs that move beneath her fingers…she brushes her lips across the tops of his feet, traces the curve of fleshless hips. That part of him that has not wasted, that part that arches and rises and longs for her uncle's touch—that part she gives most reverent worship. "I'm not Edward," she told him as they began. "I'm Edward's blood…call him…call him, Roy. He is touching you with my hands. Through me…he loves you again."  
At the last, before she draws him within her body, she throws the hated eye patch away forever. As they merge, she presses her lips tenderly over the scar before she tells him, "This…is from Edward"…  
The Gloves, Izumi tells her. NOW.  
Rising above his body, she lifts her arms like a chalice and silently opens her heart like a doorway. Bowing her head, she slaps her hands together…  
…and that which was Tricia Edward Elric is gone, embraced by the Eggregore.  
And the shell of her flesh is filled with a part of the radiance that is Edward.  
The mouth—so soft, so sweet—has become demanding. Devouring. Biting the thin shoulders, moaning aloud. "Ohhh…you bastard…"  
A world away, Edward stares down at Taisa in wonder and joy, eyes brimming at these words:  
"Fullmetal…I love you…"  
Then—there is brilliance  
Then—there is silence  
And she finds her way back to flesh.  
That which has halved is now whole, safe in Taisa's arms.  
And Alphonse Elric looks up to see the mournful eyes of an old friend above the raised barrel of the rifle, just before it fires.  
…TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Rising above his body, she lifts her arms like a chalice and silently opens her heart like a doorway  
Rising above his body, she lifts her arms like a chalice and silently opens her heart like a doorway. Bowing her head, she slaps her hands together…  
…and that which was Tricia Edward Elric is gone, embraced by the Eggregore.  
And the shell of her flesh is filled with a part of the radiance that is Edward...  
THIS, Izumi tells us, IS A TIME THAT IS NO TIME. A PLACE THAT IS NO PLACE.  
There is the Gateway. Sea of a thousand swirling eyes.  
There is Truth, which frankly does not give a damn if you wreck yourself in pursuit of wisdom.  
Truth doesn't give a shit. We are all candles ignited from the sun, but each light will flicker and fail and flare up anew according to what it needs to learn-how it is willing to grow.  
A body is comprised of cells. Truth is comprised of Eggregores. Circles of souls that spin in an out of flesh, weaving a dance of learning and forgetting. Each tiny spark makes the Eggregore shine brighter. TRUTH is what it has become because the Eggregores of which it is composed never cease in their instinctive drive to become more. More what is harder to define. Like trying to explain to a five year old why a PhD is going to matter in about 25 years of their life.  
Eggregores have a purpose. This handful of light, this family of allies, enemies, lovers and friends, has its work to do. There is a rift between worlds. Terrible things will happen if the Alchemic World meets the World of Technology. Terrible men will uncover clever new ways to oppress and kill one another.  
A man from the World of Technology, Phillip Von Hohenheim, student of magic, medicine and theoretical alchemy, blundered between the worlds. Not the first, but he had just enough knowledge, as they say, to be dangerous. Landing in a world where his dreams and secret ambitions might be made manifest, he went about as wrong as wrong could be.  
Phillip Von Hohenheim wasn't an evil man. He was gentle. Kindly. Soft spoken. In later years he acquired the demeanor of a whipped pup, wallowing in his guilt. He wasn't evil—but he was foolish and blind to the price paid for his knowledge, paid in blood by innocents, including his firstborn son. There had to be an Equivalent Exchange. Something had to set the balance to rights.  
Thus it was that a group of souls agreed to separate from their own Points of Origin and merge to form an Eggregore to protect the innocents of two worlds and to hold Von Hohenheim's chaos in check. There were souls that pitied Von Hohenheim and agreed to take on his bloodline.  
Over and over, in this world and that world, these souls swirled and evolved, born and born and born yet again. Some, as time passed, formed circles and alliances within the whole. Some were drawn inexorably to love one another, regardless of gender—for what true gender exists within the blazing heart of Truth?  
One was a soul that was brilliant, restless—one-pointed. Nearly as destructive as Hohenheim…and willing to burn out that flaw in one lifetime. It took birth as Hohenheim's son.  
One was the soul that was willing to sacrifice all that it possessed to level a tyrannical military state.  
These souls had loved before. Undoubtedly, they would love again, and gender, time and age be damned.  
One of them was preparing to merge once again into the radiance, abandoning it's failing flesh. The other had yet a span of good years ahead of life to be lived. Beloved, if you are done with your days in Amestris—come to Earth. Find me again.  
But there was a gulf of time between them—one that could not be breached.  
Hohenheim, that meddler, decided to breach it for them.  
It fell to one of the Master souls to clean up after him, as usual, aided and abetted by one of Her beloveds—a soul that had been mother to one, lover to the other in recent births. Because of her profound bonds to both the warrior and the restless prodigy, Flame and Fullmetal, she abandoned the shell of her body so that a Pact of Remembrance might be forged….  
Edward Elric Speaks…  
Far as I knew, I was dying—and other than regret, what kept running through my mind was an image of that idiot, Hughes, standing up at my grave delivering my eulogy. "Yeah, Edward Elric died in the arms of his lover—Stand up and take a bow, Cowboy!—and the only thing we can carve on his headstone is this'Here Lies Professor Edward Elric. First He Comes, Then He Goes'. Muuhaaahaaahaaa!" Whereupon Teddy and Taisa wrestle him to the ground and beat the shit out of him, killing him instantly, and I find my soul flying towards the Gateway with this moron chasing after me, screaming, "Hey! Edo! Wanna see some pictures of my kid?"  
Hughes was not trailing after my ass, so I eventually figured out that I hadn't kicked off.  
It's a nice feeling, ditching the body for awhile. I've done it before. Not like Al has—my little brother has some shamanic abilities that frankly scare the bejeeezuz out of me. Like that 'putting a portion of my soul' in something business. Couldn't—wouldn't—do that in a billion years. But I left my body when Envy stabbed me, so I recognized what the fuck was up and had a pretty good idea of my destination.  
God, I hoped I didn't –stay- dead or whatever. That would mean being apart from Taisa—and that is never a good thing. Maybe Alchemists mate for life. I know I did. Waited long enough for that bastard to find a mother to bring him into the world again. Guess he was determined to have that same sexy voice, those smoldering eyes and that body I can't keep my hands off of, no matter how long we live and love together.  
Most likely, I concluded, I was passing through the Gate to reunite with Al and Teddy and Mustang. First chance I got I intended to rip Teddy a new one for being so damned careless—yeah, I know. I saw the fuckin' video. Al was the one poking around at the stone. Point is—and I hate like hell to say this—Teddy is…well…  
Teddy is expendable. Not an Alchemist. Not really. But she'll be a teacher of Alchemists someday. I loved her dearly, but if I had to make a choice, a snap decision on who I'd save if I could only rescue one…well…I'd have to hope that her soul would forgive me. If I could get back in one piece with Al, I'd be fuckin' luckier than I deserve…hell, if only Al could get back, that would be fine, even though it would kill me to leave Taisa.  
This journey seemed to take a hell of a lot longer. I was starting to get worried. Worse, I was starting to get drowsy. I bit the inside of my lip, pinched myself. Nothing. I….couldn't…keep…miiiii…eyes….  
There's this fresh smell that comes up from the river, y'know? Best on a autumn morning. And the musk of oak leaves crunching under your feet as you run up the path to the white frame house at the top of the hill, the house next door to Rockbell's.  
There's the crisp sound of sheets playing on the wind, dazzlingly white against the green of the meadow. Washdays were good days, because as soon as the laundry was hung out to dry she would always start on her afternoon baking. The bread was done early, laid out of wire racks to cool. Apples had been cored and peeled, dusted with cinnamon, and tumbled into brown and white sugars. Pie dough was rolled up and chilling in the ice box—so hard not to sneak in and steal a bite of apples or a pinch of dough-you could hear her even when you couldn't see her: Edwaaard! Alphonse! If I find one dirty fingerprint on my dough I'm going to throw it away and you'll have to do without dessert this week. Do you hear me? Of course, there were always fingerprints and pinch-holes….and there was always pie in the pantry. I guess Mom just rolled her eyes and figured her boys were hopeless.  
She was coming around the front, an empty basket in her arms. There was a smudge of flour on her cheek and a huge smile of welcome lit up her face as she ran to me, arms outstretched.  
I…I didn't mean to start crying like that, but when she just scooped me up in her arms and kissed me I just lost it. I lost it completely. She carried me out to the old swing Dad had built for us and sat down, cuddling me close. "Edward…oh, my baby…I've missed this, holding you like this." She had tears in her eyes and she laid her cheek against mine. She smelled wonderful.  
I couldn't stop myself from sobbing out, "Oh god…Mom…sorry. So sorry…my fault, all of it—"  
"Hush, precious. It's all right. I'm fine now. Put it all behind you now." She was kissing the tears from my cheeks the way she always did if I skinned my knee or tumbled down the steps. But what was making me cry so hard was facing her, my Mom, and owning up to how I'd fucked things up since the day of her death.  
I couldn't stop myself. It was like when I was six and had a stomach virus and couldn't stop vomiting, over and over until I was so weak all I could do was lie in her arms, my little body shaking and convulsing as wave after wave of sickness rolled over me. This time it was shame, a lifetime full of it. Every death I caused, every mistake I'd made, and Al…  
Oh god. I had to tell her what I'd done to Al. And to her.  
She rocked me and listened, her soft hands moving in an unceasing caress of my shivering body, nuzzling my hair.  
When I'd emptied myself, she told me she'd already known everything. "What I didn't already know or guess, your brother has already admitted." God…the love in her eyes…that tender forgiveness. I could barely look at her it hurt so much. "Alphonse wouldn't let me face possible death at Orlando 5 without telling all of us everything. And I will tell you what I told your brother: it's done. Do you honestly believe there is nothing I wouldn't forgive? You are my babies, regardless when or how I exist now. Don't you know there is nothing in this world or any other that would turn my heart away from you? Edward…my little man. How many years of your very long life have been wasted in guilt and self-loathing? Enough, child. Shhhhh….close your eyes, my baby, my dearest love. Close your eyes….and rest for a while."  
She began rocking me gently, my head cradled against her shoulder, and she quietly murmured an old Amestrian lullaby I hadn't heard in nearly a century. Somewhere in front of us I heard a low chuckle. "You're lucky your mother found you first. I'd have kicked the shit out of you."  
Mother laughed softly. "You hush, Izumi. Bully us both later if you must, but this is our time."  
"Right. I'll be back to fetch you both later. Have a nice nap."  
I was grown when I woke up. Weird, huh?  
Izumi was waiting for me in the meadow. Mom—no, Teddy—was asleep in the tall grass, curled on her right side, her gloved left hand tucked under her chin. I first saw her sleeping like that in the incubator on the day she was born, so early and so damned tiny that her little head fit right in the palm of my hand. She was in her red coat and was so far gone that she was snoring faintly, which struck me as funny for some reason.  
I knelt at my master's feet. "Sensei? What the fuck is going on?" I nodded towards my Moth—no, my niece. "Wasn't I a little kid a minute ago?"  
"Call it…call it a purification. Trisha's soul is here, within the Eggregore. Her body is untenanted. I am the link between these worlds, and Love is the Bridge. There is a soul who must journey from one side of the Gateway to the other. You could not travel freely—nor could Alphonse—until you had forgiven yourselves for the mistakes you made—and you could not accept that forgiveness until you had confessed them to the one you had wronged—this child who sleeps here." Her fingers touched Teddy's cheek, almost like she was touching a lover. Before Roy Mustang can cross the bridge he must forgive himself. To do this," she laid her hands on my shoulders, eyes burning into mine, "he feels he has to tell you to your face, not only of his love but of his guilt and shame. This is what he feels he needs before his soul may move forward. Trisha has agreed to be the link. I will be the Bridge. You have made your peace with her. Now you are free to go to him, to help him close this blood-stained chapter of his many, many lives."  
So that was what this was all about, eh? Al and I had to convince ourselves that we were forgiven by me telling Mom and him telling Teddy everything about that failed transmutation—how we'd made a monster of her, how we had to kill her in the end to set her free.  
It wasn't her forgiveness we craved—on some level, we already knew we had that. What we needed was to forgive ourselves. We'd already spent the balance of our lives trying to make amends, but unless we forgave ourselves it wouldn't mean jack shit…and we'd wind up making the same horrible mistakes all over again.  
And Roy—god, what was eating at his soul? Whatever it was, he must have cleared it. What else could explain how Taisa was born as such a bright light, no bitter shadows hounding his every move. Taisa—even thinking of him warms me. He's what Roy should have been. Would have been if he'd stayed out of the military, not become bitter and cynical—if he'd been able to drop that freakin' mask and been allowed to be Roy Mustang, not Colonel Sarcasm.  
So. Teddy's body, eh? Damn. That freaks me a little. "Will it hurt her?"  
"Yes."  
"Then, why her?"  
Izumi looked like she was gonna clobber me again. "She's your mother. There's nothing she wouldn't do for you, idiot. Are you ready?"  
I nodded.  
She lifted a finger in warning. "Don't stay long. You're a guest, not moving in for good. She could die if you linger, so be careful. When I call you, you leave. Understand?"  
"Yes, Sensei."  
"And don't be too shocked by this…but Teddy's with Mustang now."  
Huh? "Yeah? And?"  
"She's….with Mustang."  
"You already said that."  
She gave me an evil grin. "They're fucking."  
"Whaaaa-?" I thought I swallowed my tongue at that moment. "Y—you don't mean…?"  
"And enjoying the hell out of it. So will you. You're about to find out the true reason women's bodies are superior to men's. Have fun, you little shit!"  
"WAITAMINUTE! MASTER! WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUU"  
"I'm not Edward," she told him as they began. "I'm Edward's blood…call him…call him, Roy. He is touching you with my hands. Through me…he loves you again."  
At the last, before she draws him within her body, she throws the hated eye patch away forever. As they merge, she presses her lips tenderly over the scar before she tells him, "This…is from Edward"…  
The Gloves, Izumi tells her. NOW.  
Rising above his body, she lifts her arms like a chalice and silently opens her heart like a doorway. Bowing her head, she slaps her hands together…  
…and that which was Tricia Edward Elric is gone, embraced by the Eggregore.  
And the shell of her flesh is filled with a part of the radiance that is Edward.  
The mouth—so soft, so sweet—has become demanding. Devouring. Biting the thin shoulders, moaning aloud. "Ohhh…you bastard…"  
And I, Edward Elric, was back in Amestris.  
And Roy , once more, was in me, loving me through her body.  
And my master was right, damn it. Female superiority can be summed up with two words: multiple orgasms. Shit. Teddy could probably fuck a man into a coma, bounce out of bed after coming a dozen times and play racquetball without breaking much of a sweat. "God damn, Mustang," I told him as he caught his breath. "can we be dykes next incarnation?"  
He gave me one of those wicked, sexy smirks that made me want to fuck him through the floor. "Good idea, Fullmetal. A sprained tongue might shut you up."  
AMESTRIS, 1951  
Cosine passed from table to table, gathering up dirty plates and empty mugs. Live music tonight. Good crowd. Strange faces, grave above those stiff blue collars. They nodded in time to the music but never joined in, not roaring like the rest of the drunks at the Briggs Mountain Inn. The officer in charge was a slim, small woman with iron gray hair clipped short above her collar, her fine features etched with worry. She kept glancing at her watch and biting her lip and when Cosine offered to top off her ale she shook her head. "Coffee, please. For me and my men."  
"I'm Ross. Let's talk in private," she was told when she returned with a steaming carafe and extra cream. A tall officer with a shock of unkempt grey hair and a cigarette dangling from his bottom lip neatly lifted the tray out of her hands with a wink. "Don't worry. Ma'am," he chuckled. "I'll see to it. Hey, Furey!" he shouted above the crowds to a small, neat man engrossed in a chess match with a thickset sloppy one. "Sober 'em up, okay?"  
A drunk in the corner stumbled to his feet, spilled a handful of cenz on the table and struggled with his coat. Passing the tray to the one addressed as Furey, the shaggy haired man moved to intercept the drunk on his way to the door. "Come on, old timer," he told him kindly. "I'll see you home so the missus won't skin you."  
Cosine had seen this thin, shabby man in the inn a lot this spring but never heard him allude to anybody waiting for him when the pub closed. "Why, Vato, if I'd known you had a wife waiting, I'd have packed you off with some coffee at last rounds," she teased him as she passed. Vato snapped to attention, then began to slide towards the floor.  
"Whoa, feller! Lemme get you out of here. Easy—ooops!" Like a gunny sack, old Vato was flung over the officer's shoulder. "Night, all!" he called cheerily.  
"Night, Havo!" the stout man called back. "Don't forget, you owe me for that last pitcher."  
"Pay ya back tomorrow," he was told, preceding Cosine and the woman named Ross out of the inn's warmth and into the bitter darkness, cold enough to snatch one's breath away.  
Soon as the door closed behind them, the 'drunk' was dumped unceremonially to the pavement. 'Vato' bounded to his feet and snapped to a salute, which Ross returned with a curt nod. "Van's ready, sir." he told her. He glanced at 'Havo'. "You did get the heater running, didn't you?"  
Cosine was pushed into the spacious rear of a what appeared to be an ordinary delivery van, the kind that brought fresh meat and imported beers from Central for the guests lodging and dining in town, and sure enough there was plenty of provender in storage bins. Gesturing for Cosine to seat herself on a tall stack of flour bags, the woman Ross closed the van doors behind them and flipped on the overhead light.  
"Did you bring them, Havoc?" Ross inquired mildly.  
"Sure thing, Chief. They're in the front seat. Warmer up there with the driver."  
"Bring us a sample, if you please." She offered Cosine a smile that might have been meant kindly but instead made her feel as if she'd gone home and found some items of intimate apparel missing from her lingerie drawer.  
There was a loud shreeeeeeeeeeeee! from the front seat and 'Havo' or Havoc, whatever the hell his name was, pushed his way back into the light, a bundle cradled in his arms. It was wriggling in a most alarming fashion. A long, pink tail whipped out and slapped at the soldier's shoulder.  
"Miss Cosine? I'm a farmboy, y'know. Just came back from a furlough to visit my family back east and help clean up the barns for planting season. I brought some friends back with me who need food and lodging. I think we'll put them up here at the inn."  
He unwrapped his parcel with a wry grin, revealing two of the most enormous rodents she'd ever seen. Black as tar with red, feral eyes, naked pink tails and wicked incisors, orange as pumpkins, capable of gnawing through bricks.  
"This is Solaris," he told her. "Named her after an old girlfriend." The monster was the size of a kitten, fixing her with a bold stare and puffing out her cheeks, sniffing rapidly as if trying to determine if Cosine might taste better than the handful of dog biscuits Havoc had offered her as a snack to keep her quiet. "And this is Bradley." Cosine yelped in alarm as Havoc held him up for her approval. "Male, as you can see. Very male—one hell of a set of luggage on these river rats, don'tcha think?"  
"Havoc!" Ross cautioned.  
"Oh, sorry, Ma'am!" Havoc ducked his head but didn't look the least bit remorseful. "Anyway, we need to find 'em a good home since they're about to become parents for the first time. Judging from what the vet says, Solaris could have, oh lemme see—"  
"—as many as twenty pups in a litter, considering the healthy conditions the mother and father were raised in," Falman contributed.  
"Right," Havoc nodded, scratching Solaris behind the ear. "Not to mention, the in-laws. See, Bradley's been a baaaaad boy, haven't you, big fella?"  
"I—in-laws?" Cosine stammered.  
"Yup. Solaris has five beeeyoutiful sisters. And Fuhrer Rat had his wicked way with all of 'em. And since I can't keep 'em in the barracks," Havoc held them closer, "we figured we'd put them up at your place."  
"Six sisters. Six litters. And if you calculate for maximum fertility, that comes to approximately one hundred twenty babies. And since a female rat can conceive within 24 hours after giving birth—"  
"—and Bradley's such a horny little bastard—"  
"HAVOC!"  
"Ahh…sorry! Anyway, he'll be raising up his own little Rat Battalion and using your pantry as his barracks. Sounds like fun, eh?"  
Cosine's face began to crumple. "Wh-why are you doing this to us?" she wailed, shrinking back as far as she could from Havoc, who had taken a cookie out of his pocket and given half to each monstrosity, now perching on his shoulders.  
"Simple," Havoc told her. "You ratted out our Boss. We figured we'd return the favor."  
The innkeeper's wife looked mystified. "What did I ever do to you, Miss Ross?"  
"Oh, she's our commanding officer," Havoc clarified.  
"But our Boss is Colonel Mustang," Vato Falman finished.  
"But…but he's retired, right?"  
"He risked his life for us and gave up everything to save this country from King Bradley," Ross told her firmly. "He may be retired, but as far as we're concerned he'll always be The Boss."  
Cosine looked unconvinced. "You—you work for the President, right, Miss Ross? What would she say if she knew you were doing this behind her back?"  
The driver of the van pushed back her cap and leaned around to wave at Cosine. "She's not doing this behind my back, my dear," said President Riza Hawkeye. "Who do you think has been keeping the rats warm up front?"  
"Fuhrer" Bradley finished his cookie bit, stretched out on Havoc's broad shoulder and began washing his massive testicles with a quick pink tongue.  
Cosine fainted.  
An hour later they had assembled in the landlord's office.  
Vato Falman, now on the President's staff as National Security Advisor.  
Kain Furey, father of Binaryalchemist code who built the first Amestrian computer, roughly the size of a small office building.  
Heymans Breda, author and chess master, almost single-handedly responsible for the high popularity of the new role playing game Castles and Chimeras, which he'd invented to entertain his grand children.  
Jean Havoc, who returned to active duty after a full recovery from his paraplegia and had risen to the rank of Major and was vastly popular with the soldiers in the field because he had never lost his sunny, easy going personality.  
And lastly, Riza Hawkeye. President of Amestris. Currently thumbing through what appeared to be a Health And Safety Inspection form #39-404F. After a long, long wait, she nodded to the terrified owners of the Briggs Mountain Inn. "My….oh my goodness. Cockroaches, you say, Breda?"  
Breda handed her a large glass jelly jar. Inside a muddy brown insect as big as Havoc's thumb scrambled around and around. He shook the jar. The roach hissed.  
"Goodness," the President deadpanned. "I didn't think hissing roaches were found outside of Xing."  
"They don't live long in the cold, Madame President."  
"Long enough to lay eggs?"  
"Yes, Ma'am!"  
"Where did you capture that particular specimen?" the President inquired mildly.  
"In the refrigerator," Havoc smirked. "It had eaten half a cabbage when Breda caught it."  
"And the Fuhrer?"  
"He's looking a bit anxious, Ma'am. Agnes is in labor."  
"Agnes?"  
"The one with the white smudge on her belly."  
"Oh. The one with the nasty temper. Thank you, Havoc. Mister Furey? What was that you were saying about the television set in the bar? Isn't that the only working set in the Briggs Range?"  
"It was. Something's happened to the wireless feed. Looks like the signal's down."  
"For how long, Mr. Furey?"  
Kain polished his glasses, his face unreadable. "I'm estimating it won't be up until …..oh…no earlier than 9:02 pm on Wednesday."  
"WHAAAAATTT?" The landlord rocketed out of his chair. A shove in the chest from Havoc planted him back in his seat. "But we-look, that's the night of the big fight at Armstrong Arena! We've sold tickets for the broadcast—the bar's gonna be packed with paying customers expecting to see the fight."  
"Oh, they'll get a fight all right," Falman smiled coldly. "Especially when one of the drunks suggests that you ripped everybody off on purpose."  
-Or the pregnant rat swimming in the cider keg. That might raise a few eyebrows," said Havoc.  
"Not to mention what the ladies will do when those giant hissing cockroaches start crawling up their legs and under their skirts," Breda added.  
"You won't have to be upset when the health inspectors give you a failing evaluation," Ross was laughing now. "Your customers will undoubtedly burn this place to the ground. Coincidentally, the street repair crews will be out with buckets of warm tar"  
"—and your cleaning lady will forget and leave a number of feather pillows out to air in the back yard—you'll make sure to remind the drunks about the feathers, won't you, Vato? Can't do this properly with all tar and no feathers."  
"YES, MA'AM!"  
Cosine and her husband had melted down to a puddle of whimpering goo at this point, clinging desperately to one another and looking from face to face for even a brief flash of sympathy.  
They didn't find it.  
"Please…please. Don't do this, Madame President! We'll do anything, anything you want," they pleaded.  
"Really?" The cognac eyes glittered wickedly. "Excellent. I suppose Havoc could insure that Fuhrer Bradley and his six wives could find a new home, preferably in an unpopulated area with plenty of predators. And the roaches probably won't thrive in the cold here. Anything you can do about the signal, Furey?"  
"No problem, Madame President, if that's what you want."  
Hawkeye deliberated. Then she sighed heavily. "I suppose," she agreed reluctantly. "Provided that our friends here are willing to cooperate."  
The landlord and his wife almost dislocated their necks nodding in assent. "Tell us what you want us to do!" they blubbered.  
"Oh…nothing much. It's just that we have a squad of sharpshooters hunkered in a few miles from here. They have orders from the Amestrian cabinet to take Roy Mustang by force and to shoot anyone else that comes out of that cave where the Colonel has been holed up. Now," she leaned closer, dropping her voice, "these are good soldiers. Good men. Far from home and lonely. It might be patriotic," she suggested, if you were to bring a small keg of hot toddy to warm them up—"  
"—delivered by some big breas—"  
"HAVOC! Please!" The President shot her long time friend a scornful look before returning to her plan. "Delivered by the two of you as a heartfelt expression of your support for our men in uniform." She laid a slim hand on a small thermal cask. "Make sure everybody either has some of the hot toddy or some of this hot apple cider. Everybody gets a hot drink."  
Cosine gulped, "Will it put them to sleep."  
Havoc looked like he was enjoying this all too much. "Nope. It will make 'em randy. Just in time to rescue that baker's van full of fancy ladies that will break down a quarter of a mile from the perimeter. About fifteen minutes after you've left for home."  
"Fancy ladies?"  
"I call it The Revenge of the Miniskirt Army," said President Riza Hawkeye.  
The van was waiting outside, although the roaches and rats had been moved upstairs with a handful of armed guards. If the President and her co-conspirators didn't return on schedule they had orders to turn the damned things loose in the dining hall. Falman, Breda, Furey and Havoc were hurrying into their disguises.  
"Damn," Breda shook his head in disgust. "Hate shaving my beard off."  
"It's for the Colonel," Havoc pointed out. "That sarong looks like shit, I hope you know that."  
"Hey!" Breda was stung. "At least it covers my legs, which is more than I can say for you, Havo! You've got razor nicks on your kneecaps."  
"Goddamn it, will you shut up!" shouted Kain Furey. "This is so humiliating! My wife wouldn't stop giggling when I tried on her high heels."  
"Hey, Falman?"  
"What, Havoc?"  
"Ummm…does this make my butt look big?"  
Falman considered the question carefully. "Scientific evidence would refute the idea that what one wears could actually change the size, shape and contour of a pair of human buttocks. The theory is purely based on optical illusion." He straightened his wig. "That said—you should wear that belted. And lime green is not your color."  
…TO BE CONTINUED…..

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

AMESTRIS, 1951  
AMESTRIS, 1951  
"Hiya, Toots! You're one long, tall drink o' cool water, ya know that?"  
Ha! And Falman said lime green wasn't my color! "Why, darlin', I'm sooo glad you stopped by to help us poor workin' girls out of a jam."  
"Huhhhh. Yeah." The soldier was old enough to know better and young enough not to give a shit. He had three condoms sealed in foil, tucked safely in his back pocket, and right now he was so hot he afraid if he rolled one on it would melt.  
This wasn't exactly a spring blossom. No, this long legged Eastern gal had a few lines around her eyes, and her breath reeked of tobacco. Still, her eyes twinkled as she lowered her thick lashes and playfully sucked on her lower lip. Damn. Damn. If she did that one more time his zipper was going to bust. "Now, sweet cheeks," he muttered against the tanned flesh of her neck, "since I did something to help you, why don't you do something to help me?"  
Later, Havoc reasoned, the only way the soldier had managed to flip him face down against the hood of the truck was because there was ice on the ground, damn it.. His lime green miniskirt was peeled up to his waist and before he could say what the fuck? he was about to have his privacy abruptly invaded.  
"Damn….I just love a big boned gal," the soldier cooed, biting his earlobe. "Those tits are like rocks, honey!"  
Oranges, actually…and Falman, you'd better get your ass over here and knock this horny bastard out or I'm gonna be walkin' realllll funny tomorrow. Mustang! He gritted his teeth as the soldier jerked down his trousers just far enough to free his erection. Chief, you owe me for this! Swear to—"GOOOOODDDDD!"  
"Uhhhhh….ohh yeah….Sweet Leto! Damn, you're so tight! God! Un…be…fuckin'…lievable! God…you're the hottest piece of ass this side of President Hawkeye."  
"Oh really, soldier?" That…voice. Behind him. Sounded kinda…familiar. Maybe he should-? No. No. This was too damn good. So hot…so damned hot. As hot as…as…hot…oh, GOD! As hot as..  
Waitaminute. He was getting poked now. Between the hem of his shirt and the crack of his ass, right in the small of his back. Whatever it was, it was cold.  
Like the muzzle of a pistol.  
The hot tomato from the East reached back and grabbed him by the testicles. Hard. He froze mid stroke. The cold—yes, it WAS the muzzle of a pistol—that cold protrusion pressed harder against his back. "Wha-what do you want me to do?" he pleaded.  
"Give me your hand." The voice under him dropped about two octaves. He obeyed without question. His hand was guided to the woman's chest. "I may have two big round tits," he was told. His hand was shifted back. "And two nice tight cheeks…but do you want to know what else I have, Sergeant?"  
"What the—HEY!"  
The gun pressed deeper. "I believe your companion asked you a question, Sergeant."  
The soldier's went from full salute to half mast. "Uhhh….okay." He licked his lips nervously. "T-two big round tits. And two tight cheeks. What else?"  
Havoc jerked free and turned around. For once he wasn't blushing. "Two big hairy BALLS, you moron!"  
"Duly noted, Major! Dismissed!"  
Havoc grinned, saluted his President, tugged his miniskirt down over his thighs and climbed into the back of the van, passing Falman on the way. "Where the fuck were you, Vato?" he spluttered.  
"Are you all right, Havoc?"  
All right? "My lips are chapped, my legs are freezing. And my ass he stopped himself.  
The President, however, finished his sentence.—has been wounded in battle. Major Havoc was engaged in a struggle with the Sergeant and was struck repeatedly with a…ahem…blunt instrument."  
"Wow…hey, Havo? You all right?" asked Breda.  
Hawkeye almost smiled. "I'm recommending you for a medal for bravery, Major Havoc."  
Havoc blushed and looked away.  
"He was ambushed from the rear," she told them. "Fortunately for the Major he was carrying a large caliber weapon which completely intimidated his attacker. The Sergeant took one look at Havoc's weapon and simply…went limp with fear."  
"How long you think it'll take them to sleep this shit off?" Havoc asked. He didn't even attempt to remove those wretched stockings he'd worn to camouflage the razor cuts on his legs. He simply yanked hard at the remaining shreds and stuffed them in his breast pocket.  
"Hmmm, if I estimated the dosages correctly, I would say we have probably an hour before they start to come around.. You contacted Mrs. Christmas and her…ah…hostesses?"  
"Yup. Soon as I told her it was for Roy she said she'd do it for free. Used to be an informant for us back in Bradley's days. The girls loved him because he always flirted with 'em and brought 'em presents."  
The President of Amestris glanced away from the road ahead. "Money, gentlemen. They loved his money. He made a habit of siphoning off a percentage of his budget for 'intelligence expenditures'. Brigadier General Hughes advised him to stay on the good side of Mrs. Christmas. She's been a useful ally over the decades. A well paid ally."  
"So what happens now?" asked Furey, tucking his wife's best shoes into a plastic bag for safekeeping. "Are we just going to dump them off at the brothel?"  
"Until I come back to bust them for dereliction of duty—however, I will report this directly to the President herself who will dismiss the charges. After all, nobody's actually seen the prostitutes that picked them up. They thought they were helping ladies in distress."  
.  
"Seriously, Roy. We need to come back as women. Women don't fuck up the world with wars and shit. Maybe that's why us guys always screw things up, 'cause we can't come a hundred times like they can—"  
"Shut up, brat." Mustang leaned up on one elbow and smirked at his lover, currently occupying Teddy's body. The soft curves were hers, and the tender flesh he'd feasted upon tasted undeniably female—but the voice that stuttered out his name and whimpered in delight had deepened to a light, velvety baritone and the eyes that glowed in Teddy's pale face had changed from clear blue to amber-gold. He missed Fullmetal's wiry strength, his scent—always that hint of steel and machine oil, even right out of the shower—wanted, just this once, to be taken, to surrender to Edward as he had not done when they were together. It was one of many of the things Roy regretted, things Edward had urged him to confide. "Look," he whispered, "I haven't got a lot of time, see? This is hard on Teddy. Can't keep her out of her body so long—"  
"Where is Tricia?" Roy wanted to know.  
"Inside the Gateway with our teacher, Izumi-sensei. She's asleep—hell, she's snoring, can you believe it? And she's just fine. But she's not gonna stay that way if I hang around. Where's my brother?"  
"He's further up towards the cave's entrance. I asked him to leave."  
"Why? So you could fuck his youngest child behind his back? That's low, Mustang. Even for you."  
Roy held the tip of his tongue securely between his teeth so he wouldn't lash back with acidic sarcasm. Rolling over, he reached in to the pile of Teddy's abandoned clothing and pulled out the delicately carved flute, which he passed to Edward. "That was a piece of kindling," he told his lover. "First try. Perfect. Second test was her old silver bracelet. Get Alphonse to show you the Flamel cross she made for him. Third test was rock crystal. She purified it and transmuted it into a perfect sphere. What did you make on your first try, eh?"  
"A doll. For Winry. And," he admitted reluctantly, "Al was helping me." He ran his fingers over carvings of Celtic-style knotwork unknown in Amestris. "Damn…not bad. Not bad at all." He offered his lover a cocky grin. "Guess that means I'm a pretty great teacher, huh?"  
"You didn't teach her Tantric Alchemy, that's for damned sure!"  
That shut Edward up, at least until he had a few moments to digest what he'd just been told. "T-then—what you…did she-?"  
"Uh huh."  
"And could you-?"  
"Yes."  
"And it worked? Damn! I kinda wondered when I read that police report back when the two of you were in college and the cops walked in on you and her and Hughes in one of your three-way entanglements—"  
"Teddy and Alphonse told me that the three of us had been room mates—but lovers?" Mustang looked surprised.  
"He's her father, for chrissakes! You think he wants to dwell on the fact that his baby girl was practicing sex magic with Screws Hughes and a Gay Japanese chemistry major? Damn it! Never should have let her read Israel Regardie! You weren't into women, but Hughes was into both of you—occasionally at the same time, according to the police reports. Teddy later admitted they were practicing sex magic to help a friend of theirs with breast cancer."  
Mustang looked impressed. "Did it work?"  
Edward nodded. "She was in remission for five years. Five more than she would have. Lived long enough to see her daughter graduate from high school. And speaking of Hughes—isn't there something you want to tell me about you and the Lieutenant Colonel?"  
"Brigadier General," Roy corrected. "Are you asking if we-?"  
"Yeah. You did, didn't you? That's why you fell to pieces when he died, right?"  
All these years, Mustang thought wearily, and I still miss him. "I have loved two people in this life, completely and without reservation. You were the one I waited for. Maes was the one…who walked away from me."  
"He married Gracia."  
"He married Gracia. Right. He was a loving father, and most of the time he was a faithful husband." Edward looked at him sharply. "Couple of times, she went out of town to visit relatives. He'd come over…we'd open a bottle of scotch…and…"  
"You fucked."  
"Yeah. Not proud of it, but I don't regret it either."  
"You're a real prince among men, Mustang," Ed shook his head with a wry grin. "No wonder you steered clear of her after he was killed. Now," is there anything else you've kept from me? Anything you need to get off your chest—aside from these breasts. Damn!" Ed jerked his eyes away from the body he was inhabiting. "The last person I wanted to see naked was one of my own female relatives! That's disgusting."  
Mustang snorted with mirth, then began brushing his fingers lightly over those parts of Teddy's anatomy that were unnerving the hell out of Fullmetal. When Edward began to groan softly, he stopped. "Asshole!" Edward growled. "Get a man all worked up—"  
"A man in a woman's body," Roy whispered hotly, "who admitted a few minutes ago how much he admired the indefatigability of women's bodies."  
"Sh—ohhhhh—shut up, goddamnit! Roy—ohhh. Hey. Stop…that…oh. No. Don't-not that, for chrissakes! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! Lick me again like that and I'll punch the shit out of you!"  
Roy nipped him lightly on his inner thigh. "Teddy had no objections," he purred. "None whatsoever."  
Edward looked horrified when those words sank in. "OH MY GOD! I'm gonna be sick!"  
And he was.  
The President hit the gas and roared to the outskirts of town, where Mrs. Christmas was waiting with a laundry truck. Several loads of sheets, reeking of perfume and whatnot, were exchanged for heavier bundles, one of which groaned a little when Falman dropped him. "Whoops! That might leave a bruise," he fretted.  
"Not to worry. I'll let him bunk with Ludmilla."  
"Ludmilla?" Havoc bit his cigarette in two. "Christ, she'll kill him!"  
"And how the hell would you know, Major?" asked the President pointedly.  
The tips of the Major's ears flushed scarlet, but it was too dark for his comrades to see. Instead, they laughed like hell as they piled out into the snowy alleyway where they dumped the costumes in the rubbish tip. "All right," Ross addressed her troops. "Now, the only one we have to worry about is Denny Brosh. We've kept him out of our plans so he wouldn't be able to accidentally expose us. I'm reasonably sure he'll help us get the Colonel out of Amestris and back with his relations in Xing. Emperor Ling has been in contact with members of the Colonel's ancestral clan. The Emperor has said that Mustang can live as an honored guest at the palace or live among his family or establish a private home—and that the masters of Rentanjutsu will gladly do all they can to heal him."  
"If that is what Roy wants," Hawkeye finished. "I've known him since I was in my teens. He might actually prefer to die."  
That statement was followed by complete silence that lingered until they turned off the main road and headed through the brush towards the base of Briggs Mountain  
Edward wasn't upset and sick about having kissed a man who had gone down on his niece—he was shaking and getting feverish. "Oh, shit," he gagged. "God…this must be what Izumi meant when she said this was gonna be hard on Teddy." He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of Teddy's red coat and leaned back against Roy, head reeling. "Look," he gasped. "I don't think I can hang on in this body much longer, so shut up and listen to me, okay. When you pass through the Gateway, you're gonna get tested. If you can't honestly forgive yourself for fucking up, if you keep flogging yourself for the mistakes you've made and the people you've killed, you'll blow it. You'll never get to be Taisa—and you have no fucking idea what a loss that would be to all of us. I love you, goddamn it. I want those thirty years—ohhhh…shit!" He slapped his forehead. "What year is this? Armstrong said it was 1951."  
"It is. And…in your time?" he asked cautiously.  
"It's 2007."  
"Now…now I understand, damn it!" he shouted, grabbing Roy by the shoulders. "When I came back last time, what year was it?"  
"It was 1917."  
"Not on Earth it wasn't. It was 1923. That's a fucking six year time difference. SHIT! Don't you know what happens in the early spring of 1957?"  
"No."  
"YOU happen. Don't you see? If you go through the Gateway now—"  
Mustang swallowed hard. "If I go now, I'll be—"  
-born in time to be a Scorpio. Holy shit!" He hugged Roy fiercely, and released him abruptly as a searing pain threatened to rip his skull in half. "Jeeze!" he gasped. "I've got to get out now or Teddy's gonna have an aneurysm or something. Listen up!" he grabbed Roy's arms to brace himself before he fell over. "You've got to remember this! I want you to keep repeating this, over and over and over, right up through the Gateway! 'My father's name was Roy Rodgers from Blackpool, England. He flew a P-51 Mustang airplane. He was a pilot. My mother was from Kokura, Japan. She was a nurse. Her name was Miyazaki Hikari . My father was Roy. My mother was Hikari. They met in Tokyo after the war. They never married. I was named Taisa Roy Mustang. My clan name is Miyazaki Taisa. I will study chemistry at Berkeley in America. On October 3rd, 1975, I will make sure I'm in the alley between the men's dorms around 10pm, pacific time—and I will not run when the lacrosse players come after me.' You've got to remember this! You are Taisa Roy Mustang—and Edward is waiting."  
Edward twisted in pain, gave a sharp cry as the gold faded from his eyes. "Find me," he gasped as Roy kissed him farewell. "Damn you, Mustang! You…have to find…me."  
When she was twelve years old, Alfons dared Teddy to jump off the high dive at the local pool, doing a popular stunt dive call a "Russian Suicide". Basically, one ran off the board at full tilt, leaped into the air with arms and legs spread wide, screaming at the top of one's lungs. If you were lucky, you went straight down. If you weren't lucky—and Teddy wasn't—you made the belly buster from hell.  
That was nothing compared to the 'Russian Suicide' dive she made when she re-entered her body.  
She was dressed—although her bra was inside out and half the hooks were undone—and back on the bench, only this time she was the one lying down, her head cradled on Roy's chest.  
"Is that you in there, Trisha?" he chuckled softly. His eyes were clear and he was sitting up unaided.  
She nodded weakly. He kissed her softly on the forehead. "Good. Now, for the second part of the State Alchemist's Exam.."  
She bit him.  
It wasn't until Denny Brosh had reached the opening of Mustang's Lair that he realized what he had been mentally repeating, over and over, as he trudged through the snowy darkness:  
Please don't make me kill my friends. Please, don't make me do it. If you're in there, Ed or Al, go back. Please, god—go back home. Don't make me do this.  
Mustang? Well….nobody wanted to put the old Colonel out to pasture, but if he was as sick and irrational as he was rumored to be, it was sheer cruelty to leave him holed up here in these primitive conditions. "The President will find him a comfortable place to retire," he reasoned. "They are old friends. She was his most loyal supporter. She'll see he's taken care of.  
But as for the Elrics—no. No. He refused to kill them but there was a squadron of crack sharpshooters over the hill. If he didn't shoot, they would. And probably shoot my ass to boot, he though grimly.  
It was with genuine sorrow that he greeted his old friend, now a man of very great age, but whose face was but gently lined and whose hair was the wonderful, warm caramel color it had been when Denny first noticed what a handsome young man he had grown into—and the thought had made him blush.  
"Denny? Denny Brosh!" Alphonse cried, hurrying toward him with his arms outstretched. "Oh! It's so good to see you! And where is-?" Alphonse stopped in his tracks. "Denny," he asked softly, "put the rifle down. Please."  
"Al…Alphonse. Oh, god…god I'm sorry."  
Pointing his rifle at the point right between those beautiful bronze eyes, Denny Brosh fired.  
"DADDY!" Teddy screamed and dashed towards the mouth of the cave, yanking on her gloves as she ran. Mustang, enervated by Tantric Alchemy, followed behind her, only slightly breathless and high on sex and adrenaline.  
Teddy had already drawn her alchemic daggers when she stopped dead in her tracks.  
Roy leaned heavily on her shoulder, panting for breath. She passed him her inhaler. "What the fuck?"  
Denny Brosh was flat on his face in the dirt. Grinning. "You must be Teddy! Hi, I'm Denny Brosh. Oh—Colonel! Sorry if we startled you two, but if I hadn't fired those blanks the boys in the hills would have thought I hadn't finished the job."  
Alphonse Elric smiled at his youngest child. "Got to make this look convincing, Mischief. Got any rope?"  
You would know the secret of death.  
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?  
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;  
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.  
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the Gate to Eternity.  
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?  
-K. Gibran, The Prophet  
NOW, ORLANDO 5  
Ohhh shit, groaned Denny Brosh, pressing the rewind button again and going over the frame-by-frame that had the Professor so freaked out.. Ohh shit-shit-shit-shit! Damn! Why the fuck did I get myself mixed up with these crazy Elrics? Damn it, Al's as bad as the Professor, when you get right down to it. Why not just blow the freakin' stone all to hell? I mean, I'm sorry for Mustang and all that—but he's not worth dying for, huh? Goddamn it—those hands pulling Al and Teddy right thru freakin' solid stone! And what the hell is Professor doing back there with Taisa? Some kind of—no. Can't be alchemy—that doesn't work here. They'd better hurry up. He glared ruefully at his watch, then up at the clouds swirling in from the west—another one of those goddamned Orlando afternoon boomers that snuck up out of nowhere, drenched you and flung enough lightning around to short out your gear and knock your router offline before vanishing in next to no time. Sorry Professor, but if that cloud unzips over us, I'm coming in for shelter. I'm not risking this gear—not even for you.  
"Fullmetal…I love you."  
There was a pebble under his left shoulder, had been there the whole damn time. Taisa was so enthralled by Ed's feverish lovemaking that he hadn't noticed it when his lover hauled him down in the dust and filth of the scratched out array. Ed was a ravenous lover by nature—he attacked his mate the way he attacked his meals, as if at any moment his treat was going to be snatched away from him…and if anybody tried they'd find themselves running for cover, desperately trying to peel a hundred plus pounds of half-armored whoopass off their backs. Ed didn't kiss you—he devoured you, inhaled your breath, swallowed your tongue, chewed on your neck and left a trail of hickies from your chin to your kneecaps. Oh, he could be gentle once he'd slaked his desire—amazingly tender, although he was never a great one for spouting reams of romantic sentiments. Not a poet, this one—but for all his cantankerous bitching and temper tantrums he was ferociously devoted to his loved one and would have laid down his life for Taisa without hesitation.  
That pebble was starting to hurt like a sonuvabitch, and in his fierce need to have his lover now Ed had gotten a little rough. The pain in Taisa's bruised shoulder was nothing to the pain elsewhere. Call it the Agony and the Ecstasy. Now that the Ecstasy was done, Taisa knew that he was going to be more than a little uncomfortable—and inwardly grinned at the thought of how he would get even…and soon.  
Jean-Remy Havoc leaned against the van, eyes closed, willing himself to remain calm, since there was no question that the emotions warring within his heart would be of absolutely no help at all to the woman he was coming to cherish so dearly.  
Some things are predestined, non? My birth on this side, my finding you again after ten years. Are you meeting me now in Amestris, petite? Or will this madness with the Gateway take you away from me? There was deep, wrenching pain in his guts that refused to go away, would not be soothed by anything less than her small body curled around his, skin to skin, with the assurance that she was safe, whole…and still wanted him—that no-one on the other side had captured her heart while she was gone. C'est vraiment—I didn't know how empty I was until my heart filled up again. You accept me, cher. My strangeness—the arts I've learned from the cradle, the arts Solange called ignorant superstition. I'm not a freak to you. We can speak to one another of the things the rest of the world would never understand, like alchemy and magic…and hope. We make a light together, ma petite ange, so you have to hear me calling you—you have to come home now.  
"Gracia? Honey, they're still gone—Ed's acting weird as shit, too. Ran us out of the cave and he's back there with Taisa—no, I don't think they're gonna try to go through, but….yes, put her on….Hi, baby! Yes, Daddy loves you! Did you have a good time at the Princess Tea? Who? Oh—just like Sleeping Beauty, huh? And they gave you a doll? And a crown and a bracelet? Ooooohhh, pretty! You'll have to put on your princess crown and dress up for Daddy as soon as I get back—and guess what? Uncle Tai and Uncle Ed are here—they're back from the jungle! They've got allllll sorts of funny stories about the giant jungle frogs to tell you when we get back to the hotel. No, sweetie—probably not tonight—we're helping Aunt Tee and Uncle Al right now. Yes, baby. I promise I'll give you a hundred-million smoochies as soon as we're all done, okay? Love you too, precious! Can you put Mommy back on?"  
Edward Elric burrowed his face into Taisa's shoulder, eyes screwed tight, his breath coming in slow, ragged gasps as he lay still. His chest hurt in some odd way he couldn't quite define. Like something's been stretched—like I'm trying to make room inside my heart for something that maybe wasn't there before.  
Maybe it was making room for the Colonel—as well as Taisa.  
Al asked me once if I'd transferred all my feelings for Colonel Sarcasm to Taisa when we met, that maybe it wasn't fair to dump all that emotion on a nineteen year old kid. A nineteen year old, now approaching fifty, and who now, thank the Twin Powers of Logic and Science, had finally accepted his tales of Amestris as truth.  
Yeah. Guilty as charged, brother. Eyes still closed, his mouth moved against the long fingers that traced the curve of his lower lip, nuzzling, not biting. I got over it. Grew out of it. Maybe lust and need and loneliness made me chase him down. He's stayed because he chose to. Because of what's grown between us. I chose to stay with the Mustang of this world…but I'm thankful I got to kiss the Colonel goodbye.  
"You realize," the man beneath him grumbled, "I'm gonna wait until the least convenient moment to get back at you for this, asshole."  
Ed heaved himself up on one elbow. He wasn't quite sure how to explain to Taisa what had just happened—or even if he could. But he'd never lied to his lover and this wasn't the time to start now. "I need you to listen to me, okay? It's…it's important."  
To his credit, Edward didn't attempt to look away or avoid Taisa's questions, even if they made him feel damned uncomfortable. At the end, he asked, "Are you pissed?"  
Mustang considered carefully. "No. You didn't make it happen—it was done to you. You weren't trying to use Teddy. Hope he wasn't, either."  
"You mean you, right?"  
Mustang ruffled his shorn hair in frustration. "Ohhhh, fuck this! Me, him—him, me—what the fuck's the difference? Only he's the one who's dead now, right?"  
Ed unconsciously bit the inside of his cheek, not liking the sound of those words. "Yeah. Yeah. I mean…it was 1951 in Amestris. That's 1957 here. You got made that year. Born that year, right between Halloween and Thanksgiving. It was—what—around this time of year there. We figured out that if you went through the Gateway that night, most likely you'd make it through and be born of Miyazaki Hikari."  
"So….now what? We wait to see if I disappear?"  
Edward gripped his arm tightly. "Jeeze, don't say that. Don't even think it. What's going to happen is that I'm going to activate this side and Teddy and Al will activate the other side—takes two Elrics on two of three sides—"  
"—three sides? What the fuck-?"  
"—Hoenheim. Dad was in the middle. My teacher, Izumi, told him to fuck off and leave us alone so we can straighten out this mess. Anyway, once we get the Gatestone activated, Roy will pass through and his body will die—and Izumi will guide that soul to your mother—"  
"—you hope," warned Taisa gravely.  
"I pray," said Edward simply.  
"Ed? You're an atheist. You don't believe in anything." Taisa was shaken by his lover's words.  
Edward's metal fingers laced through his own and squeezed gently. "I believe in this," he answered.  
Ed called them in just as the sky ripped open and lightning cracked across the horizon before anybody could count higher than fifteen. "Shit! Storm's right on top of us," shouted Hughes, trying to find a dry patch of his jacket to wipe his glasses on. "What the hell were you doing in here, Cowboy?"  
"I was watching over Ed's body while his soul was in Amestris. He's seen Teddy and Alphonse."  
That caught Havoc's attention. "Is she all right?"  
Something about the way Edward hesitated before answering tightened the knot in Havoc's stomach. "Tell me what happened," he demanded.  
"I traveled through the Gateway out of my body, thanks to my meddling father," Ed explained as carefully as he could. "Teddy's soul was asleep between the worlds and I went into her body. The Colonel was there. We….said our goodbyes. He's dying."  
"Did she get back?" Havoc pressed him for details.  
"My sensei, Izumi, was guarding her. I know Teacher would never let Teddy be harmed. Seems like she's been guarding Teddy and watching over her for a long time. She's back—or I would know it."  
Denny looked up from his soggy notes. "So…now what?"  
Ed tucked his glasses into his pocket and pushed up his sleeves, fully revealing his automail arm for the first time to Denny and Havoc. Hughes had seen it a few times but it still gave him the willies.  
"Now we bring them home."  
"Huh?" Denny looked confused. "What do you mean 'we'?"  
"Simple. Three of them—Alphonse, Teddy and the Colonel. And three of us," he gestured toward them. "Me. State Alchemist. Havoc? You're a Traiteur. May not know jack shit about alchemy, but you don't strike me as being afraid to learn—and you're Teddy's lover. Taisa?"  
"Yeah?"  
"You're the key to all this."  
Mustang arched one dark eyebrow skeptically. "How you figure that?"  
"I'm bound by blood and love and alchemy to Alphonse. Havoc and Teddy are lovers. You and the Colonel are one. You're Roy's future, don't you see? What Teacher told me is that 'love is the bridge', okay? I'm Al's guide. Jean will be the bridge for Teddy—but you've got to help Mustang. I can't believe I'm saying this," he shook his head in disgust, "but you'd better find something about yourself that's worth loving, 'cause the Colonel thinks he's not only a failure but a mass murderer and an assassin—and the last two items are facts, Taisa. This is a man who blew up cities, set people on fire and there's people in what's left of Ishbal who use his name to frighten children into good behavior. They think he's a demon—they talk about how he could raise a fire so intense it didn't just burn people up—their bones melted.  
"The military forced him to do it. The soldiers worshipped him, almost as much as they feared him, 'cause he was the young kid major, still wet behind the ears, who got them out of Ishbal alive. He got them home, man. Only he couldn't live with it—it ate him alive. He kept trying to kill himself to wipe out the memories and the guilt, the blood on his hands.  
"Finally he got this insane idea to become Fuhrer—he'd knock Bradley off his throne, take over and clean house. And when he found out Bradley wasn't human, he made up his mind to kill him."  
Havoc nodded. "He saved the country, then."  
"Yeah," Ed sighed heavily. "At the cost of his career and reputation, not to mention half his face, his health and his peace of mind. Now he's dying—and I had time to warn him—to tell him he'd better make peace with himself, 'cause if he can't forgive himself…Taisa may never join us here. And Taisa is the one person I can't live without," he finished, nodding to his lover, "much as I hate to feed your damned ego by admitting this."  
Nobody spoke for several minutes. They avoided each other's eyes, all but Taisa and Edward, who embraced silently. "Okay," Hughes broke in. "What do you need us to do—me and Denny?"  
Ed thought for a moment, then nodded. "I need you to call your wife. Get a baby sitter for Elysia—but we need a nurse. Teddy and Al are gonna be in shitty shape when they get here. Call her. Soon as she's here," he decided, "we're gonna bring them back home."  
AMESTRIS, 1951  
Soon as she heard the gunfire, President Hawkeye slammed on the brakes, sending everyone in the back sprawling and cursing. "Goddamnit, Havo!" Breda swore angrily. "Nearly put my eye out with your smoke. Watch it next time, willya?"  
"Sorry, man!" Havoc crawled his way to the front and saluted Hawkeye and Ross. "Who fired? Can you see anyone out there?"  
Hawkeye shook her head, looking stern. "I think it's safe to assume that it was Major Brosh," she stated.  
Ross cut her eyes towards the President's impassive face. "Alone?"  
The President didn't answer, slamming her foot down on the accelerator. Damn it, Roy! Don't you die on me! Not until I get a chance to talk you out of this madness. You may want to die, but not on my watch. Not if there's hope in Xing…  
"Any loose ends that need tying up—oops! Sorry, Major!" Teddy was a bit embarrassed by her gaffe, but Brosh thought it was funny.  
Mustang looked years younger now, having shared those precious last moments with Edward. He had combed his hair, changed into a fresh uniform and scribbled a few notes which were sealed in official looking envelopes. "The disposal of my personal possessions," he told them frankly. "Little enough. My journals go to the State library, along with my books. Everything else—I don't give a damn. Except these things. Alphonse? For you."  
It was a dossier folder, yellowed with age. Inside was a much-creased letter, asking a certain alchemist if he has had contact with Hoenheim Elric—that Elric's wife was critically ill and needed him. There were two graded evaluations—one for Alphonse, one for Edward—from the day they took the State Alchemy exam. A thin stack of photographs of a small blonde boy and a hulking suit of armor with glowing eyes. Another showed the pair with a blonde girl in coveralls—another showed them eating cake at Elycia Hughes' first birthday party.  
A letter, sealed with red wax, was handed over as well. "For Edward, along with this journal." The book was bound in scarred black leather and weather-stained. "And give these to Taisa—perhaps he can use them." A pair of ignition cloth gloves were added to Alphonse's bundles. "Can you stash this all away in your coat?" Alphonse nodded.  
"Teddy. Hold out your hand." She obeyed. Mustang laid his silver pocket watch on her palm, closing her fingers over it. Understanding the significance of the gift, she tried to hand it back. Mustang shook his head. "No. This is yours now. I tested you. You passed. I was qualified once to examine candidates for State Alchemist. I didn't get to test you on theory and history—but it's all rubbish in your world. I'm assuming Edward and your father schooled you well enough. When I carried this watch I shamed the office it conveyed. I used my powers to destroy. That's not your way. You can cleanse this watch by using your knowledge to protect your family and the Gates between the worlds. Keep it as a pledge of trust for the Elrics to come after you. That's all I ask of you."  
She bowed her head and fastened the watch chain around her neck so she wouldn't lose it. "Thank you, Roy," was all she could manage without breaking down.  
Alphonse was feeding Denny sips of coffee and bites of a protein bar. "Now what?"  
"Denny. Soon as we're gone, cut yourself free and make sure those documents reach the President and my staff. And thank them, one and all, for me."  
"Yessir!"  
"Roy? Before I go—I want to step outside for a minute. This is my only chance to see what our home was like. I want to see Amestris."  
Mustang smirked. "Precious little to see. Sun's not up yet."  
"Still…I won't be long. Then we can go."  
Alphonse caught his daughter's eye. "Do you need-?"  
She shook her head. "If you don't mind…I want this to myself—okay?"  
The stars had faded on the edge of the horizon, constellations that she could not name, and the moon seemed younger than the moon she'd prayed to back home. She knelt in the snow and offered her thanks to the Goddess and to Izumi and Saint Django for watching over her. "I wish I could stay—but that's not on, is it? So help me come home without regret. Thank you." She dug down beneath the crust of snow and scooped up a handful of brownish dirt and gravel and put it in a baggie along with a few jagged rocks she planned to have polished and set into jewelry, as heirlooms for the Elrics who could bring themselves to believe in their distant motherland. After a few breaths of sweet piney air, she bent down and kissed the ground. "Thank you," she whispered, and licked the melting snow from her lips before turning back to the mouth of Mustang's lair.  
It was at that moment she heard the rumble of a military transport. Without hesitation, she quickly drew a spiral array in the snow about ten feet from the mouth of the cavern. She drove a black hilted Alchemical knife into the spiral's heart, right through the Leminiscate. At the mouth of the cave a matching array was scratched into the mud, pierced through by the white dagger.  
As she stepped into the heart of her array, she heard Roy and Alphonse join her. Roy glanced at the two arrays and nodded in recognition. "Princess Mei would approve. Right, Alphonse?"  
The elder alchemist smiled. "I told her about Mei's daggers and so she adopted it. Ready, Mischief?"  
Teddy swallowed hard and hoped to fuck she didn't have to hurt anybody. "Yes, Daddy."  
"Remember—don't use it on yourself if you don't have to."  
"I'll remember."  
"See that you do," Mustang warned, "or Edward will never forgive me for letting you get hurt."  
Soon as the front tires hit the rim of the first array the van was flooded with a blue brilliance that made President Hawkeye slam on the brakes and shift into park. Before she could rush out, Havoc grabbed her shoulder. "Better not, Ma'am."  
"Turn me loose, idiot!" she snapped. "It's Roy!"  
"And he thinks you're here to kill him—or worse. I'll go. After all," he grinned, "I'm expendable!"  
"No, Jean," Hawkeye answered gently. "You're not."  
"Then cover me, okay? I'm going out to talk to him."  
Edging around the side of the van, Havoc held up a white handkerchief. "Don't shoot, Chief! It's Jean Havoc!"  
"HAVOC?"  
A brown haired woman in a red coat came forward, a silver dagger in one hand, lowered to her hip. For several moments she and Havoc stared at one another. "Remy," she said softly. "Don't you know me?"  
"Teddy…this is Jean Havoc, not Jean-Remy," Alphonse corrected.  
Mustang moved into the headlights, a gloved hand poised to snap. "Get in the van, Jean. Get out of here. Forget you saw me."  
"Maybe I can, Chief, but She won't, so you'd better talk to her."  
Mustang didn't need to ask who She was. "Madame President. Here to arrest the Elrics and take me into custody. Am I correct?"  
She had loved him for so long, wanted him for ages. When she got him at last, she didn't know him at all.  
She didn't have him long. In fact, truth be told, she didn't have him at all, really.  
It ended with silence. When she could stand no more, she transferred to Central, as far away from Roy Mustang as she could get. If he wanted to exile himself and brood forever about his sins, drinking in the middle of the night, mourning the death of one lover and the disappearance of another, that was his decision.  
He saluted her as she drove away, turned on his heels and hiked back to his guardhouse. He didn't look back.  
When the Gateway tore open the skies above Central years later, he had returned. She had saluted him, eyes swimming in tears.  
He all but ignored her. When he soared aloft in the balloon, she lost all composure, running after him, begging him to wait. "Sorry, Lieutenant. Only room for one."  
"LIAR!" she screamed as he raced across the sky, leaving her once again.  
He remained reclusive, even after his return. Seldom did he seek out the company of others, save a few male friends like Armstrong and Havoc. He was polite. He treated her with an odd, formal kindness. As she began her ascent into power, he let her know that he believed this to be a good thing and that she had his support. He attended her wedding—her husband thought well of him, regarded Roy as a brave patriot whose greatest sacrifices for his country would be forever unsung until the world could safely be told of the true horrors of the Bradley regime.  
Roy didn't appear to care one way or the other.  
And now—he was dying. One look at his pallid, wasted face—the eye patch gone now, only a veil of hair partially concealing the ruin where his left eye had been—told her that there would be no rescue, no flight to Xing. No reprieve. No chance to cheat death. This time, Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, was flying away forever.  
"No, Roy. We came to say goodbye…and thank you."  
There was wine in the van—cheap vino, the kind they call whore's sweat, but there was enough to go around, for all of them to share a swallow. Mustang's friends were frankly surprised at Alphonse—not only his great height and strength but that he had actually married, settled down and raised children. Hawkeye regarded Teddy with knowing eyes. Something between them, she recognized whenever Teddy and Roy smiled at each other, but she also noted that it was Havoc who was making the alchemist blush. They stood apart from the others, speaking shyly to one another.  
Mustang had escorted Havoc to one side. "She told you?" Havoc blushed to the tips of his ears, nodding. "Then let me tell you something more. Hughes and I will be there too—and if you ever make that lady cry, Hughes will break every bone in your body. Twice. And then," he added with a smirk, "I get to burn whatever's left. So treat her right—and quit smoking or she'll never kiss you."  
There were stories to share, and there was much laughter, which seemed strange at first. "Not many men get to laugh at their own wake," Mustang observed. "But if I've learned nothing else from my talk with Edward tonight that raised eyebrows all around,—it's that death is nothing. It's walking from one room to another. And for old friends," he surveyed them with a satisfied nod, "there are no goodbyes."  
Rising, he turned to his former staff, the few in Amestris who had never lost faith in them.  
"Kain Furey!"  
"Sir!"  
"Heymans Breda!"  
"Sir!"  
"Vato Falman!"  
"Yessir!"  
"Jean Havoc!"  
"Yo, Chief!"  
"Gentlemen, I won't forget you. Jean—I'll see you on the other side. Remember what I said about the future."  
Havoc and Teddy exchanged smiles. "Yes, Chief! See you on the flipside!"  
His eyes met those of the President. "You did what I failed to do. You united this country and revived her spirit. You gave us peace, Riza." He bowed. "You made my dream your own. That was the best gift anyone could have given me—and I ask your forgiveness for…not being what you hoped I might be."  
The old companions snapped to salute, equal to equal. "Miss Elric? Take care of him."  
Teddy smiled at the President of Amestris and nodded. "Always."  
Behind them, the massive stone array became transparent. A voice, instantly recognizable to all, called out urgently, "Alphonse! Are you all right?"  
"Ni-isan! We're ready!"  
"Aw, fuck it!" Kain Furey broke rank, dashed up and hugged his former superior officer. "Take care—and good luck, Colonel!" Suddenly there was a lot of hugging, a bit of crying, and Teddy found herself getting kissed by Jean Havoc—it was quick and shy, but it made them both grin. "I'm coming back for seconds on the other side," he told her.  
"Damn right you are!" she laughed, waving goodbye.  
Surrounded by the best team in the history of the Amestrian State Military, Colonel Roy Mustang approached the array. For an instant he hesitated. Then he smiled. "What was it I read in that book when I was a boy? 'To die will be an awfully great adventure!'…."  
As he stepped through the Gateway he paused. The Horizon beyond the Doors was streaked with golden light, like the first morning of summer holidays when he was a child. The air was sweet.  
When he blinked up at the sun, he beheld it with both eyes.  
So…you're the Colonel.  
He was a beautiful man, scarcely into his middle years, tall and slim with skin the color of summer wheat. His hair was drawn back in a loose queue, revealing sparkling black eyes full of intelligence and sly good humor.  
So…you're Taisa.  
He was a shimmering brilliance, smiling and looking younger by the minute, growing smaller and smaller, brighter and brighter…until he was a handful of radiance, like the pulsing heart of a star…  
Taisa captured that light.  
Embraced it.  
It entered his heart.  
"Oh!" was all he said…  
…until much later, when he said, "Let's go home. Edward is waiting…"  
…..TO BE CONCLUDED…..

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

AMESTRIS, 1951  
AMESTRIS, 1951  
"By Presidential Order, and with the approval of a majority of the Amestrian Parliament, we confer the posthumous rank of Brigadier General upon Colonel Roy Mustang in honor of his unsung efforts to protect the freedom and rights of the Amestrian people by exposing the corruption of the Bradley regime at the risk of life and limb. At his request, his remains are to be interred beside those of his lifelong friend and brother in arms, Brigadier General Maes Hughes.  
"Furthermore, at the request of Brigadier General Mustang, the honorary rank of State Alchemist is to be conferred in absentia to Tricia Edward Elric, along with the equivalent rank of Major and all benefits and entitlements attendant thereof. Henceforth, Tricia Edward Elric will be referred to by her Alchemic title: The Spiral Alchemist. As the last surviving Alchemic disciple of the Flame Alchemist, she and her own disciples will be granted access in perpetuity to all of the Brigadier General's personal archives and resources, should they return to Amestris.  
"Finally, a full and free pardon is extended in absentia and in perpetuity to Alphonse Elric, son of Hoenheim of Light, brother of Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric, and father of Spiral Alchemist Tricia Elric.  
"To this do I set my seal on this 21st day of March, 1951  
"Riza Hawkeye, President of Amestris"  
KOKURA JAPAN, 1957  
It was a damn shame, the nurse tut-tutted to herself, closing the door of Room 319, carrying the warm, drowsy bundle back to the nursery. Such a sweet girl, and it's awful the way her family is acting. He's such a lovely baby, little—she peered at the name scribbled on the clipboard—Taisa. "Well, little man," she told him as she laid him down in his crib, "maybe it's not the best way to enter the world, but you're here—and you'll do fine."  
"Going to keep him, is she?" her superior asked. "Even if her family refuses to give him their name?"  
The nurse nodded, smiling. "He's all she's got now. Heard the father's dead and turned out to have a sizable family in England. Not likely that lot will take 'em in. And I know the Miyazakis. More pride than money, and the old man is never going to let Hikari live this down. Best thing she can do is leave Kokura and maybe move back to Tokyo. Her English is good. Maybe she can find a job at the base hospital."  
Her superior nodded. "I'll make a few phone calls. You've got a name for him now?"  
"Taisa, she decided. Means 'honored leader'."  
"Uh huh. Middle?"  
"Roy, after the man that fathered him. And you won't believe what his last name is going to be!"  
"What?"  
"Can't be Miyazaki—and she can't legally make him a Rogers. You remember Ol' Colonel Roy? Ever meet him?"  
"Meet him? Honey, that man could make a Carmelite nun roll on her back. Ol' Colonel Mustang was sniffing under every skirt in this hospital. Got a weakness for nurses. Every woman wanted to 'ride the Mustang'!"  
"Eunice, you're terrible!" the nurse giggled. "Anyway, Hikari asked me what the word 'mustang' meant. I told her it was a fighter plane, but it also was a beautiful wild horse. I told her now wild mustangs out west don't like to be captured or fenced in. She liked that—so that's going to be his last name."  
"You don't mean it!"  
"Yeah." The nurse leaned down and ran an admiring hand over the infant's silky cheek. He really was a beautiful baby, in spite of his mixed blood…or maybe because of it. "Say hello to Taisa Roy Mustang"  
AMESTRIS, 1961  
"Damn, Havo. Only you would pull a stunt like this!"  
A bottle of whore's sweat made the rounds. Even Furey was getting fershnickered tonight, as was the custom when they drank to fallen comrades on March 4th. Gateway Day they called it sometimes, or the Feast of St. Mustang the Sarcastic—or St. Roy the Rampant, depending on how drunk they all were and how obscene the stories were getting—and whether or not there were any women present. "I believe Havo was one of the last men living on this side to get a hand job from the Flame himself—hey, Breda! It was just a hand job, right?"  
"Uhhhh…dunno, Falman. All I know was I was gone for an hour when we went up to see him in the north one time, and when I got back His Snarkiness was lookin' damned smug and proud of himself…and Havo was all red-faced and jumpy—and the whole way back he kept complaining every time we hit a bump in the road."  
Furey looked wistful. "He never did me."  
Falman shook his head. "Me neither."  
They turned their eyes on Breda, who took a long pull on his ale. "Huhhh? WHAT? No, damn it."  
"Heymans, your face is sweaty," Falman observed dryly.  
There was an awkward silence. "No," Breda finally admitted. "Never did me…but—"  
"Yeah?"  
-one time…well…we were in the showers, right. Annnnd…"  
"You peeked?"  
"Yeah….I did."  
Falman and Furey exchanged drunken grins. "Annnnnd?"  
Heymans Breda flicked a driblet of sweat off the end of his nose. "All I can say is ….damn." Stumbling to his feet, he hoisted his sloshing mug. "To the valiant men who Rode The Wild Mustang—and to Roy the Rampant—best equipped officer in the Amestrian army!"  
"Salute!"  
"Annnnnd to Colonel Jean Havoc—smothered to death with his face between the thighs of Big Ludmilla in Mrs. Christmas' brothel. What a way to go!"  
"SAAAAAALUTE!"  
BERKELEY, 1975  
You want to know how it will be—  
Me and her—or you and me  
You both sit there, with your long hair flowing  
Your eyes are alive, your minds are still growing  
Saying to me—'what can we do now that we both love you?'  
And I love you too…  
But I don't really see  
Why can't we go on as three?  
-David Crosby, "Triad"  
I love you, Hughes had told him.  
I love you, Hughes had told Teddy.  
"…and I know," he added so softly, "that you love each other—maybe not in the same way…but it's there. I can feel it. And so," his voice was barely above a whisper now, "in my heart...there's no choice between you."  
And then he opened his arms wide enough to embrace them both.  
That night he slept for the first time in their bed, skin against skin against skin. It had worked, miraculously. His heart was filled to the brim. A broad, fuzzy chest cradled his head and silken softness snuggled against his back. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever, that he could be in love with a couple, goddamn it—or that he could be so easy in his own skin with a woman that they could decipher a language of touch and tenderness that was utterly different to the incendiary passion Hughes could quicken within him. If there was greater peace than this precious intimacy…well…there wasn't. Plain and simple. This, he decided with drowsy sigh, is as good as it gets….  
When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.  
Khalil Gibran, The Prophet  
ORLANDO 5, NOW  
"Pull, damn it! Pull now!" Edward was screaming, wild eyed and frantic as he snatched at his brother's hand. "AL! Oh god-I've got you! Don't let go, damn you! Don't you dare let go!"  
Havoc reached around Edward, his hands sliding down the older man's sleeves until they breached the surface of the stone. Small, slim hands locked around his wrists. They were icy and slightly damp. "Teddy! I'm here, petite! You're almost home now. Just keep moving—tiens! What—TAISA! Help me! She's falling!"  
From the Amestris side of the Gateway, Al's voice was faint and weak. "B-brother….I-I-can't…we're tied together! Don't let go…oh god...WINRY!"  
Teddy was shrieking now, like something was tearing her apart. "IZUMI! Master, help me—ohh god, make it stop!"  
Gracia and Mays stared at one another in horror. "It's killing them," she whispered. "What can we do?"  
"Ed! You've got to get them out or they'll die in there," Taisa shouted. He locked his arms around his lover's slim body. "I'll hold you—try to reach past the surface and see if you can pull them in. Remy—grab hold of me and brace your heels.  
Edward pushed through the transparent surface of the stone until his head and shoulders had emerged half way between the worlds, under a sky filled with unblinking eyes. He was clutching at Alphonse's hand but it was an illusion. He was alone in the silence. Glaring at the endless dark horizon he shouted GIVE THEM BACK! DAD! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! I WANT ALPHONSE AND TEDDY BACK NOW!  
It was as if a very large hand had covered his face and shoved. He fell back, out, and landed heavily on top of Taisa and Remy. A moment later, Alphonse and Teddy landed on top of Ed, knocking the wind right out of him.  
Remy all but wrenched Teddy away from her father, tearing at the rope that bound them to one another. He clutched her tightly to his chest, rocking her as if she were a wounded child. "Ma petit' ange…Remy's here, he won't let you go…mon Dieu! You're so cold! Gracie-cher! Would you—oh, that's better, merci…" Gracia moved swiftly to tuck an unzipped sleeping bag around her friend.  
"Let's get her away from the stone and rub her—oh, god!" Gouts of bright blood gushed out from between Teddy's lips. "Denny! Call an ambulance—she's injured!"  
"No I'm not!" Teddy gasped, spitting and wiping her lips. "It was Izumi. She—she overshadowed me. I'm fine…damn it, Hughes! Quit fussing with me! Is Daddy all right?" She pushed Remy away and crawled frantically to reach her father, prone in Edward's arms. "Is he…?"  
Mustang steadied his old friend with a clasp of her shoulder. "He looks okay—Ed? Is he breathing all right?"  
"Al?" Ed asked softly. "Hey, you in there?"  
Alphonse' eyes were closed and tears dripped down his cheeks. "Oh…Winry…love…don't leave me!" he moaned.  
"Alphonse…you've got to wake up. You're home, okay?" Ed slapped his brother's cheeks lightly. "You're home. Teddy made it, too. But you gotta open your eyes now. C'mon!"  
Teddy caught her father's strong hand in her own and held it to her cheek, kissing it again and again. "Daddy…tell Mom I love her—and say goodbye, 'kay? Edo and I need you here."  
After a long wait, Alphonse blinked miserably, then pressed his face into his brother's shoulder. "She's…she's still so beautiful…"  
Edward laid his cheek against his brother's head. "I know," he said softly. "I know."  
NOW—The Grand Floridian, Walt Disney World  
It was, as Edward observed, the perfect place for this family reunion. "Whole fuckin' place is built on irony and illusion," he observed bitterly, pouring himself a brandy. "All this goddamned gingerbread made of Styrofoam. First Church of Walt, Orthodox. Makes me wanna puke."  
"All magic and fairy tales. Weird as this family is, we blend. And short as you are," Mustang smirked at his lover, "you can ride all the attractions at Mickey's Toontown Fair without getting booted out of line, like at Space Mountain."  
"Goddamn, I hate you, Mustang," Edward growled. "Whole fuckin' mess is your fault. If you hadn't been waiting for me back then, my dad wouldn't have gotten that wild hair up his ass about dragging Teddy back to be the Bridge—"  
"Shut up, Edward." Taisa was not smiling now. "I refuse to be held accountable for my actions as the Colonel. And if Hoenheim interfered, he was using me as an excuse. And it sounds like Izumi Curtis was meddling as much as your father was. Is Teddy any better?"  
"Sorta," he looked uneasy. "Gracia and Remy are getting her out of the bath and into bed, and Mays talked room service into whipping up some soup for her and Alphonse."  
"How is Alphonse?" Taisa ventured cautiously. "Stopped crying yet?"  
"Yeah," Ed answered heavily. "Cried himself to sleep. I've got the door half open so we can go to him when he wakes up. Guess he saw Winry," he finished, and tossed back another shot.  
"Hey—easy with that. Ought to be sober when you debrief Teddy."  
"Yeah," Edward mumbled. "Not looking forward to that."  
About an hour later, Remy carried the empty dishes to the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at Edward and Taisa. "Gracie-cher is just checking her blood sugar," he smiled. "Soon as she's done she'll call you. And don't worry—Teddy's a bit shaken but she's alive and in one piece and home, thank the saints. That's all that matters, yes?" Ed nodded, not at all comforted by the Cajun's words. "And Papa Alphonse? Still resting?"  
"We'll fix him some supper in a bit. Gracia gave him some glucose, but he's going to need a decent meal. Amazing what traveling the Gates does to a person." Taisa poured Remy a shot of brandy which his friend accepted gratefully. "Raises blood pressure, lowers blood sugar, drops the body temperature. Any ideas why she threw up blood? Hasn't done it since, has she?"  
Havoc grinned. "Not a bit, and she all but ate the patterns off the china. Gracie-cher says they're both dehydrated but if she can get some Gatorade into Papa Alphonse he probably won't need an IV either. I've got Teddy tucked in for the night, and as soon as you and Oncle Edouard have seen her she'll try to get some sleep."  
"You'll be with her, right?"  
Any fears Mustang might have held about his friend's happiness were assuaged by the tender expression on Remy's face. "I won't leave her," he answered simply.  
Taisa nodded. "These Elrics—they'll drive you insane. I've known Teddy and loved her most of my life—and as Elrics go, she's nowhere near as bad as Edward…but she has her moments. If you ever reach a point where you want to smash your head in with a ball peen hammer out of sheer frustration," he confided, "call me—or email me, send me an IM, whatever. Winry said there needs to be a support group for Elric spouses—and that's us, my friend. No kidding. I'm here if you need me."  
"Et moi aussi." Havoc offered his hand. Taisa shook it.  
"I wanted to talk privately with you before you go in," Gracia began. She had led Edward into the kitchen on the pretext of making him a cup of coffee. "About something Remy and I discovered. Something Teddy hasn't found out about yet."  
Edward began to tense up. "Like what? You don't look pleased, whatever the hell it is."  
"Well…it's because I'm not sure how to react. I—I don't know what it means. Maybe you do. I mean—you lost your arm and leg and all…" she gestured helplessly.  
"What the hell—she's okay, right? She's not missing any body parts?" Gracia didn't answer. "Gracia? What the fuck is wrong with Teddy?"  
"We—Remy and I—we were bathing her…she was so weak, you know? And…oh, hell. Ed—her scars. They're gone."  
Edward was totally baffled now. "What the hell are you talking about? What scars?"  
"From the biopsies. And the hysterectomy. That's a long scar, Ed. There's not one damned trace of it now. It's like she was never operated on."  
The room took on a sudden chill. "Did you examine her?"  
His companion shook her head. "Didn't mention it. Didn't want to alarm her. I figured she'd had enough shocks for one day." She looked hopeful and scared all at once. "Is there a chance she was healed? Could she have gotten her organs back, do you think?"  
"I—shit! I don't know!" he spluttered. "Anything is possible. You don't know about Truth, what that son-of-a-bitch is capable of doing to humans."  
Gracia looked baffled. "Truth?"  
"That's the—that—thing—that controls the Gateway. It thinks it's god…but I don't know. It's what took my arm and leg away and consumed Al's body—then gave it back to him again. It's all about equivalent exchange—Al explained that to you, right?"  
She nodded. "That means making a sacrifice?"  
"Or," Edward felt suddenly old again, "balancing the debt. If Teddy was perceived as having sacrificed more than she…damn…goddamn! Gracia—not a word, do you hear me? Not until I've had time to figure this…shit!"  
"Edo."  
"Kiddo."  
"Love you."  
"Damn right you do."  
She didn't look half bad, considering she'd been dragged ass-backwards through the knothole of hell. On the other hand, she didn't look half good either. Still a bit pale and glassy-eyed, as if she hadn't quite digested all that had happened to her, but all in all better than Al was looking. Whatever he'd encountered—and far as anyone could guess it was a heartbreaking reunion with his dead wife—had been emotionally trying for his younger brother. Judging from what Gracia had confided to him, Teddy's 'exchange', whether paid for or redeemed, most likely appeared to be of the body, not the soul.  
She reached for his hand, squeezed it tightly. Then she ripped him a new rectal orifice. "I am not," she began firmly, "expendable."  
Edward Elric was accustomed to being the yell-er, not the yell-ee. Even the Colonel in his prime hadn't reamed out the Fullmetal Alchemist as scathingly as his own disciple did. Actually, this was the second round of ass-chewing he'd received on Teddy's behalf. Part of what the Colonel had written in the sealed missive had been blunt, critical and to the point:  
"Get off her back, Ed. She's good. Damn sight better than I could have expected for someone who's studied no more than theory. You're acting like she's a failure or a disposable convience, a receptacle for a lifetime of knowledge—someone who exists only to keep the flame alive. Bullshit. Given a few years of practice and she'd have been as good as her father, who is a damned sight better than you in many ways. It would have given me immense pleasure to see her take you on in a combat situation. You might best her, but she'd cut you down a notch or two—making it even harder to see you from behind my desk—"  
Fuckin' asshole, he swore inwardly. Still, she was right about a lot of it, damn it, and for that reason he tried to listen as honestly as he could. This wasn't some hysterical rant. It was a heated presentation of serious grievances—and it made him squirm.  
She was winding down now and reached for both of his hands. "There are only two people in this world I love more than you—my mother and Daddy. I love you more than you love me—that's a fact. It sucks, but I can't change that. Far as I know I've never satisfied you, no matter what I did. I've been of use…and that's about the size of it. You've used me and sold me short and never believe in me and pretty much wrote me off as the first one to chuck out of the lifeboat if there's a water shortage. And in spite of all that, I still love you. I don't know why I should, but I do. I love you enough to tell you that from now on, either treat me right or fuck off."  
A long time ago in the village of Dublith, Izumi Curtis had chucked the Brothers Elric out on their asses. "You're expelled. Go home!"  
They had made it almost to the train station before they headed back. They dared to stand up to their beloved Sensei, and it had been the beginning of a deeper relationship on both sides. Maybe, Ed considered, this is the way it always has to be with students and teachers. After a very long and strained silence, he met her gaze, defensive and proud. He opened his arms to her, something he rarely did to anyone but Taisa.  
She never noticed the faint spots of dampness where her uncle had pressed his cheek against her hair, although she was startled when he kissed her goodnight. "I'll send in Remy," he told her. "Get plenty of rest, and we'll start fresh in the morning."  
He might have been referring to alchemy alone, but somehow she doubted that.  
Something else had begun to nag at the back of Edward's mind. Hughes and Gracia were sitting up with Alphonse while Ed led Taisa into the master bedroom they shared in the suite. "Look, Mustang, I've got a question I need to ask you now that all this Gateway bullshit is behind us."  
"—you hope," his lover qualified cautiously.  
"Whatever. Anyway, if you start having…I don't know…this sounds stupid as shit…but if your dreams start to, y'know—"  
"What the hell are you talking about, old man?" Taisa wanted to know. "Okay. So you saw the Colonel. He's dumped his tired old body and his soul's moved on—"  
"—into you, Mustang—"  
"—yeah, so it seems. But it happened before I was born on this side, so I don't seem to have any memories. Are you—wait a minute—you think Alphonse and Teddy fucked around with time and changed things? That doesn't make sense, Edo. I mean, I'm here, so that means Al and Teddy always went to Amestris, and it always worked. End of story. I've never had nightmares about setting cities on fire or killing people."  
Ed gave him a strange look. "Oh? And what kind of nightmares have you had, actually?"  
Taisa laid his hands on his lover's shoulders. "About losing you, asshole. Someone or something I can't see or stop takes you away from me, and I'm standing in the darkness, and nobody I know or care about is around me and…oh…fuck! I—I think I'm gonna be sick again."  
"Here, damn it!" Ed all but dragged Mustang into the bathroom, steadying his lover as he heaved up his modest supper and several shots of brandy. He eased Taisa down onto the rim of the tub before soaking a washcloth in the ice bucket, wringing it out and laying it across the back of the younger man's neck. "Christ, you're such a wuss, Mustang, although this is nothing compared to you getting fucked up on kola nuts and Dramamine in Ranamuerte." He brushed the damp hair from his lover's brow. "How's the eye?"  
"Just about fine. Probably take the patch off tomorrow. It sure shook the shit out of Teddy, seeing me like this, with the patch and my hair short and all."  
Edward sighed. "You just look so damn much like your other self—and remember, she was one of the last people to see him alive." An odd thought came to him. "I know you told me years ago, but there's a reason I'm asking again. Did you ever make love to Teddy? And I don't mean any of that three-way-whoopie shit you guys were into back in college. I'm taking one-on-one, 100 full monty fucking."  
"ED!"  
"Tell me the truth. Forget she's my niece. I know you played around and experimented. But did you actually..." he sucked in a deep breath, "engage in honest-to-god coitus with her?"  
Mustang regarded his lover as if he'd lost his mind. "Jesus, Ed! I told you, that night in the diner when you were stuffing your face with pancakes."  
"I know! Now tell me again!"  
"It was the night of our Beggar's Banquet. When Hughes sang that damned David Crosby song, Triad, to us. You know the one? 'I don't really see—why can't we go on as three?' He said he loved her and he loved me—and that he knew damned well we loved each other, so we might as well become a trio. I couldn't quite get my head around being queer and yet finding myself drawn to her…and she said it didn't matter, to trust my heart and let it guide me—and to hell with the rest of the world. Sounded like pretty good logic to me…"  
Ed nodded. "And?"  
"And what, for god's sake? She was as much my lover as Hughes was."  
"But," Ed insisted, "did you—"  
"Of course we fucked! She was my first, last and only female—no offense to the gender. We were happy, probably because she understood me, and she loved me so damn much she set me up with the love of my goddamn life, Edward Asshole Elric. She's an amazing lady, she made me very happy and if Remy ever makes her cry I swear to goddess I will let Hughes break every bone in his body twice—and then I'll set his Cajun ass on fire! Now," he glared at his mate, "are you happy, you little shit?"  
"Yeah." But that's not the answer you gave me thirty years ago—and you weren't lying then, anymore than you're lying now. Guess that goddamned Colonel decided Teddy deserved a little 'equivalent exchange' in this life for services rendered before—and I bet she won't remember it here, either.  
Teddy wriggled out from under Remy and tiptoed nude into the bathroom. God, I am so sore all over. Feels like that damned stone landed on me. She fumbled with the faucets on the tub, testing the water with her fingers. Wish I had some damned Epson salts or Batherapy—anything to soak out my muscles.  
A tousled blonde head peeked around the door. "Darlin', are you all right?"  
She tossed him a smile. "Yeah, but I'm still achy all over, so I'm taking some Tylenol and I'm going to soak again. Go back to sleep, love."  
He was as exhausted as she was, nearly. "Holler if you need me. I'll leave the door cracked, oui?"  
"D'accord, cher," she answered. She sniffed at the soap carefully. Her skin was so damned sensitive, just like her father's, but this was some of the Burt's Bees Baby Bee stuff that she kept in her traveling kit. Blessing Gracia for her thoughtfulness, she slid into the warm water and stretched out with a contented sigh. Tomorrow, she decided, she'd book a massage—maybe a couple's massage with Remy. That would be so nice…Mnnnn. Or Gracia and I can go—I haven't done a spa day in years. Maybe get my hair trimmed—get a nice pedicure and soak in a mineral bath…yeah…great idea, kid. And then a quiet dinner alone with Remy, maybe go out to the House of Blues…he'd like that. Or we can slip away for a night of bliss somewhere away from my darling family…  
Her stomach still felt tender after all that awful puking. Instinctively, she began to massage her belly.  
It was smooth. The little incision cuts where the endoscope was inserted—even the long ribbon of pale scar tissue that began at her navel and disappeared in her soft brown curls— there was no trace of any of them on her abdomen now. it was as if she'd never been touched by the knife.  
It took nearly a full minute before she began screaming…  
SULLIVAN'S ISLAND, SC  
"No, no, cher—dat table by de window. I'll have dat, yeah." Stacie's frosted lips pouted in a slight moue of displeasure, but there was no arguing with the tall, rawboned lady with the cowboy hat and the long silver braid, especially when she flipped off her Ray-Bans to reveal a pair of sky blue eyes that nailed her to the side of the servers station as neatly as a honed set of well aimed throwing daggers.  
Yasmin, the other server, was pouring out coffee for a table of pasty looking senior citizens, fresh off the tour bus and looking for some 'local color'. They had bitched loudly at the lack of handicap access at Coconut Joe's—"If Marty has a stroke after climbing up two flights of steps, well, you tell your 'Joe' he's going to hear from our attorney!'—dismissed the legendary coconut fritters as 'grease bombs', and demanded that the chef make their Triple Cheese omelets with Egg Beaters, which meant Joey or the new guy had to run down the street to Food Lion and grab a couple of cartons.  
This rangy looking grandma had sashayed up the steps behind them without stopping to wheeze, flashed a smile brighter than an American Express Gold Card and complimented the view, the 'early Buffett' décor and sweetly insisted being placed at the large corner table in non smoking. "What the hell," shrugged Yasmin. "You can take it, even if it's my station. Besides, Miss Tee won't care. New issue of Guitar Player just came out. She'll forget to eat her pancakes if we don't remind her."  
"Not like she's eating much these days. Heard she broke up with a boyfriend."  
Yasmin looked surprised. "Her? At her age? You gotta be kidding?"  
Stacie cracked her gum, braids waggling. "Nope. Heard she fell for some biker dude in Texas. Bet he freaked when he met that weirdo family of hers."  
"Know what you mean. That uncle of hers is real cute but boy, what an asswipe!"  
"Mornin'!"  
The woman dining alone at the adjoining table glanced up from her magazine, pushing a pair of John Lennon-type specs up the bridge of her nose with one finger. It took her nearly a minute before she could smile back. "Good morning," she answered, making an effort to be sociable. Bloody tourists, she thought. Damn. Ohhkay…hopefully this one won't glomp onto me if I'm pleasant.  
She kind of liked the look of this one, though. Crone—has to be. If she ain't Pagan, she's a biker like…She took a hasty swallow of her coffee, burning her lip. "Fuck! Ohh—sorry! Pardon my language, Ma'am."  
"Ha! Never said it in my life—but I'm a goddamn liar, so don't you believe me, cher!" The older woman had a rich, throaty laugh that reminded Teddy of her own mother. "Say, darlin', what's good on the menu?"  
After pausing a moment, Teddy folded her magazine into her bag. "Everything. Seriously. I'm—I'm partial to the banana pancakes."  
"Yeah, I see how partial you are, child. They've fossilized in the time it's taken you to forget you had a plate in front of ya." She lifted a weather-beaten hand, studded with silver and green turquoise. "Pardonez, miss!" Stacie trotted over, whipping out her receipt book. "My little boy's on his way over, so this is for two: gimme a tall stack, a short stack, two orders of crispy bacon, two coffees with milk, one with double sugar, and a tall glass of o.j. for my new friend who don't feel much like doin' justice to her breakfast. On me, cher," she added to Teddy with a nod.  
"Really, Ma'am—you don't have to—"  
The older woman waved off her protests, then reached out her hand. "Jeanne-Marie."  
Teddy clasped it. "Teddy Elric."  
Jeanne-Marie jerked her head towards the black guitar case propped up in the chair beside Teddy. "You married to dat thing, yeah? 'Bout as big as my late husband, God rest his soul. Easier to keep dat in tune dan a man. But no—pretty girl like you, there's a good man somewhere, eh?"  
Teddy stared miserably down at the puddles of syrup on her plate. "No…no. There's nobody. Not now."  
"Oh ho—so dat how it be, yes? I don' think you lose him, Miss Teddy. I think you got yourself lost and don't know how to come home again. You think he forget a woman like you? Hell, no!"  
"Not that simple," Teddy mumbled.  
"De hell it ain't! You love him? Yeah, you do. Look at how your pretty eyes get to tearin' up. Now," the older woman leaned in closer, "you just listen to ol' Jeanne-Marie—she tell you how to put things right. You put yo' pride in one pocket, your fear in another an' just love your man. He do the same—and you be happy, no? Now…child, it's all right. You go into the ladies, go wash that pretty face, comb your hair and come out and I'll have a fresh stack of pancakes and that big ol' glass of juice., and you try to eat a bite—and I swear before the Blessed Mother, you'll be fine in the end, okay?"  
When she came back, her guitar was on the floor under the table. A dozen red roses had replaced her stack of pancakes, and a tall man with shaggy blonde hair and Jeanne-Marie's blue eyes rose from his mother's table to snatch her off her feet.  
"REMY? How the fuck-?"  
"Hughes and Gracie-cher are back at the house," he told her. "Taisa said when life got to be too much for you you'd head down to Risembool South. He told me to leave you alone for a week and then chase after you until I got it through that stubborn Elric head of yours that you can't get rid of me—any more than Oncle Edouard can get rid of Taisa. Now, petite, you and I and Maman will finish breakfast, go home and talk this mess through. D'accord?"  
"All right, darlin'—we're all here. You just tell us what's worrying you so."  
After a long pause, she told them what she'd learned within days of her return from Amestris, when she'd been quietly shuttled to a private health clinic for a very necessary ultrasound of her lower pelvis.  
She had a womb, all right.  
And three weeks later, she found it was occupied.  
"Stupid, isn't it?" she dug her nails into the sofa cushion she was clutching in both fists. "I brought MRE's. I brought water purification tablets. Even brought some fuckin' rope. I never," she cast a pleading look at her lover, "thought I needed condoms."  
Mayland blinked as if he was stunned. "But—I-I mean, c'mon! How long do those little wigglers stay alive in a woman's body?"  
The three women answered in unison"Long enough!"  
"And Teddy and I always used condoms—for now, that is," said Havoc gently. "So the father of this child is—was—Colonel Roy, yes?" Teddy nodded slowly. "And this life—it must be your choice Teddy—"  
"—I'm keeping it. I…I don't want this. I don't want to be a mother…but…I don't know. For some damned reason I was given a second chance and this child was made in love—even if it wasn't my love."  
"And you were afraid I'd turn away from you and your child? Teddy…oh, petite ange…did you really think I would?"  
"That means Taisa is…well, damn it…he didn't make this child with his body, but"  
"—it will look just like him. And people will talk, Remy. You think you can deal with raising a son or daughter that looks like my best friend?"  
"So? We tell everyone he was the sperm donor—that you were pregnant when we met, and I always wanted to be a papa, so you are two blessings in one."  
"Dey don' like it, I kick the crap out of 'em!" Jeanne-Marie crowed, punching the air with her fist. "An' I get to be a grandmere at last!"  
"One thing, though," Gracia cautioned. "Teddy, your medical records identify you as a cancer survivor. You had a hysterectomy, remember? How are you going to explain this?"  
Jeanne-Marie considered. "You got family out of the country, darlin'?"  
TOKYO—RIESMBOOL EAST  
No pastels, she had warned him. And god, no nursery rhymes or anything that's going to rot her little mind. And if anybody even looks like bringing a Barbie or a Bratz doll within a hundred yards of my daughter I will rip their appendix out with a crochet hook.  
"This," Alphonse announced to old Pinako, drowsing on the windowsill, "should make her happy, you think? It makes me happy."  
The mural was wonderfully rendered from his own childhood memories. A vast green meadow, a lazy meandering river and a white house on a high hill. Under the shade of a dozen apple trees stood a rogues gallery of all the people who would welcome Izumi Jean into the world, just in time for Thanksgiving, if everything continued to go as well as they'd hoped.  
Mama was there in her alchemist's coat, Papa's strong arms around her. Grandmere Jeanne-Marie and Auntie Marie-Luc were telling stories by the bonfire. Aunty Grace and Uncle Mays and cousin Elysia were playing hopscotch—little Teddi-Grace would be added as soon as she too made her safe arrival on this side of the Gateway. Einstein the rat was doing tricks at the command of Uncle Taisa, while Uncle Edo was perched in the branches, munching an apple, his nose in a book as usual. Yao the Psychotic Psiamese was on the branch opposite, stalking him, tail almost quivering it was so well rendered. There were Technicolor toads and frogs leaping everywhere, and overhead, Granny Winry roared across the ceiling on her Harley, silver wings streaming behind her like her golden hair. Another angel—this one in a splendid blue uniform with flying coattails—wore a patch like a pirate, flames dancing from his hand.  
And Grandpapa Alphonse? He was sitting in a rocking chair by the fire in his famous red coat, a pretty black haired Amerasian child on his knee. "She looks a lot like the man with the eye patch," he told the artist, "only prettier." And a tawny haired boy was sitting at their feet, a guitar in hand, the Flamel cross in scarlet across his black leather jacket. "That's your cousin Edwin—maybe you'll study alchemy together…  
"Or maybe not." If Izumi Jean Elric arrived whole and unharmed, then that was all he could ask for. Soon as Teddy finished her first Trimester she and Remy would be moving into this apartment just down the hall from Al, Ed and Taisa. Once the baby had come, Hughes would help finagle a fake adoption, so that Teddy could safely bring her baby home with no nosy questions.  
Entering his own home, he slid off his shoes and padded in his slippers to the kitchen, where he spotted a small, slim woman of many years and much inner grace.. "Oh…er…Ai-San. You're…you look lovely today. Will you join me for tea?"  
SOMEWHERE IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE…  
"This," Edward announced grandly, "is more like it, goddamn it! All those cab drivers and waiters in Paris—they're all such assholes."  
"Takes one to know one," Taisa murmured serenely from around a bite of buttery croissant.  
Ed glared across the pillow at his lover—no, his fiancée—stuffing his face on French pastries as they lolled in bed for the third day in a row.  
They had been booted unceremonially out of five five-star hotels in the City of Lights, and only the ample greasing of certain palms had kept Edward out of jail. Now they had settled in for a week at a country inn with a high tolerance for well heeled homosexuals—or as Ed announced as he marched through the lobby, "We're here—we're queer—we have American Express." Sick to death of being harassed for being a gay couple, Ed decided that nice didn't matter any more. All that mattered was being allowed to travel the French countryside hand in hand with the man he intended to spend the rest of his very long life with.  
Or life could be short—heartbreakingly so. All they really had was now, and Edward intended to savor every fucking moment of it.  
He hoisted his champagne. "To us!"  
"To us," Taisa echoed.  
"To your fifty trips around the sun, shithead. And to those who come before—and those who follow, especially Izumi. May she live long, love well, laugh often…and always keep a piece of chalk in her pocket. Salut!"  
"Salut, you asshole!"  
"Brat!"  
"Bastard"  
'Mmmmmm….you're gonna look so adorable in that wedding dress with the crotchless panties, Roy!"  
"FUCK YOU!"  
…NOT THE END….

**Author's Note:**

> The Further Adventures of the 21st Century Elrics Will Be Recounted in "Beggar's Banquet" , in which Some are Born, Some Die…and Ed and Mustang finally tie the knot...  
> Author's Note:  
> My grateful thanks to all the folks on fmayaoi and for going along on the ride—hope you'll join us on our next excursion into the Alt!Verse of "Fifty Trips" . Feedback feeds the creative flame, so if you've enjoyed it, I hope you'll let me know.  
> See you at the Wedding!  
> Love,  
> The Binaryalchemist


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